"The False Emperor is dead, the Blood God shall rise."
A man let out a furious roar.
Behind him, a vast crowd of people were also roaring, echoing the man.
Roaring, howling, countless voices sounded together.
In unison, their voices echoed throughout the entire hive city.
They held various crude weapons, their bodies clad in rags and smeared with the abominable runes of Chaos.
Gathering together, they launched attacks on various important buildings on Terra.
The shadows of the unliving lurked among the rioters, revealing terrifying fangs and spikes.
Predating on the soldiers loyal to the Corpse Emperor.
The sky was shattering, the earth was burning, and blood and fire spread.
The voices once ignored turned into fury, unleashing their roars upon this world.
Nava was not dead, but he was not truly alive either.
His body was shattered, writhing tendrils of flesh and numerous bone spikes replacing his original human form.
What sustained him was endless fury, what sustained him was hatred for the injustice of this world.
Destruction, destruction, endless destruction.
Only an endless will for destruction remained in his heart.
If this world would strip away and trample even the dignity of those who begged for life.
Then let there be destruction, complete destruction.
Those high and mighty nobles, those self-proclaimed high-born meat-eaters, those power-brokers who claimed the lower classes were merely their pawns.
They would eventually taste the bitter fruit they had sown.
Death and slaughter spread, gradually expanding and engulfing the hive city.
Nava ran through the crowd, artillery fire landing near him, each time he "luckily" dodged it.
The rioters beside him were blown away by the roaring artillery fire, their bodies inscribed with blasphemous runes also becoming shattered.
In no time, a group of rioters was wiped out by the artillery fire, their incomplete limbs scattered across the ground, utterly broken. The scene was truly bloody and cruel to the extreme.
But Nava crossed the blockade of fire and landed among the Corpse Emperor's army.
The soldiers screamed, raising their guns and firing at Nava.
The beams from the lasguns hit Nava's body but had no effect, being directly absorbed by the writhing flesh, leaving not a single mark on his disgusting form.
However, Nava's attacks were too deadly for those ordinary soldiers.
He swung his arm, and sharp spikes pierced the soldiers' bodies.
Crimson blood flowed along the spikes and merged into his body.
With the slaughter, his aura became increasingly terrifying.
In just a short moment, a defense line garrisoned by hundreds of people was completely slaughtered by him.
The rioters surged through the gap he had opened, charging towards the most sacred building on Terra, the Imperial Palace.
Nava transformed into a bloody figure and lunged at the troops loyal to the Corpse Emperor.
Clawing and biting, everywhere he went, blood was splashed.
daemons gained the right to descend upon Terra because of their slaughter.
The lives that perished became bridges for the unliving to reach reality.
The Warp roared incessantly, the etheric storms grew fiercer, causing increasing pressure.
The veil of reality was almost completely torn through.
More terrifying wills were pressing down on Terra, about to descend into the material universe.
They are coming.
They are coming.
Psykers cried out in agony in despair.
They felt an unprecedented sense of oppression.
Terrifying nightmares plagued them.
Blood was about to soak Terra, everything was about to be completely destroyed.
Unbearable terrifying entities were about to descend.
Destruction, destruction, everything is about to be destroyed, utterly destroyed.
Death, disaster, despair, sorrow, everything will completely head towards destruction.
It is time for reckoning.
No one can escape.
The noble will be drowned in blood.
The base will also die in despair.
Everything will be destroyed.
Everything will be destroyed.
Valerian, clad in golden armor, stood on the walls of the Lion's Gate, weapon in hand.
He watched the flood-like enemy break through one defense line after another, charging towards the Lion's Gate.
Vast and mighty, like a surging tide.
Irresistible, destroying everything.
Any loyalist forces attempting to stop them would be utterly destroyed.
Submerged in the waves of despair, everything would vanish.
A portion of those rioters were humans, inscribed with various Chaos runes. These runes ensured they would not be harmed by their Warp allies for the time being.
At least, they would not be harmed until the Chaos powers achieved their predetermined goals.
Another portion had mutated, the Warp's contamination making them neither human nor ghost, like monsters covered in bone spikes or superfluous organs like eyes.
This force was enormous in scale. Although their weapons and equipment were crude, they gave off a tremendous sense of oppression.
Valerian also knew clearly that this was just the beginning.
As the riots continued, food shortages would lead to more and more rioters losing control.
Terra had hundreds of billions of people, with several large hive cities. Once a full-scale riot occurred, the consequences would be unimaginable.
As these rioters rioted, the veil between the Warp and reality also became increasingly fragile.
He could sense that something terrible was about to descend.
"Prepare yourselves, and repel them," Valerian said.
The battle for the Custodes only officially began when those rioters and daemons approached the Lion's Gate.
The Custodes did not pay much attention to what was happening outside the Imperial Palace.
They only needed to defend the outer and inner precincts and protect the Holy Emperor.
The defenses inside the Imperial Palace were extremely strict.
Even after the High Lords, that bunch of useless gluttons, had siphoned off some troops, it was still the most heavily defended place on Terra.
As soon as the rioters entered firing range, the high walls and fortresses began to incessantly spew shells and plasma.
Every wall and tower was equipped with automated turrets and defensive arrays.
The dense firepower instantly tore apart the rioters attempting to storm the Lion's Gate.
Even daemons were torn to shreds by such ferocious firepower.
Valerian watched a mutated creature among the rioters charging left and right, overturning several positions in succession. Frowning, he turned and headed towards the landing platform.
His golden figure gave the frightened defenders some comfort, letting them know they had not been abandoned.
"Lord." The short but strong man from before jogged over.
"Hold your positions." Valerian paid him little heed, walking straight past him, the plasma arc in his guardian spear beginning to flicker.
"Lord, where are you going?" the man asked.
Valerian ignored him, instead slowly increasing his pace and beginning to run.
The Custodes were the Emperor's creations, each forged by special methods.
Loyalty and power were their synonyms.
Valerian's heart was incredibly calm. He watched the monster covered in writhing flesh and spikes closely.
This monster, twisted by the Warp, grew stronger with each kill under the gaze of the Blood God.
If left unchecked, it would likely cause greater damage.
Nava's only remaining eye, filled with blood-red light, watched the golden figure charging towards him.
He let out a deafening roar that echoed across the entire battlefield.
The mortal soldiers trembled incessantly at his roar, their raised guns shaking.
Nava swung his blood-red spikes and charged towards the opponent.
Die, slave of the Corpse Emperor.
Endless fury surged within him, gone was the reverence he once held for these noble golden figures.
Only slaughter.
Only complete destruction.
Valerian's combat skills were exquisite. He was a master of the Blood Games, constantly striving to defeat these shameful traitors who had forsaken the Emperor and turned to Chaos.
As he was about to close in on the opponent, he suddenly bent down. The acceleration caused him to roll, successfully dodging the abominable monster's attack.
Valerian swung his guardian spear. The weapon, wreathed in plasma arcs, easily tore through the opponent's flesh and pierced deep inside.
Inch by inch.
Then he pulled the trigger inside the monster's body.
With a tremendous bang, half of the monster's body was blown to pieces.
Nava let out a painful howl.
He had underestimated the strength and skill of these golden figures.
But the endless fury in his heart drove him to continue forward, launching an even more ferocious assault.
Valerian responded calmly, swinging his weapon. Seizing an opportunity, he struck sharply, instantly severing the opponent's head.
Nava's roar disappeared.
His massive body also became shattered, and finally collapsed.
At this moment, fifty heavy Starfort Servitors advanced with heavy steps.
They were painted with the machine insignia of Holy Mars.
Their muscles, strengthened by long-term chemical injections, were exceptionally strong, even reaching an unbelievable degree.
They were equipped with terrifying firepower, capable of utterly destroying any obstacles.
A rain of shells illuminated the parade avenue as bright as day, and each flash of laser could sever a rioter's limb.
Energy cannons and plasma weapons erupted like small suns.
Dragons of fire flew from the muzzles of flamethrowers, engulfing swathes of targets.
Roaring heavy bolter fire and dark energy streams, with their savage slaughter, felled rioter after rioter.
The rioters fell one after another, like wheat under a scythe.
Some were torn to pieces by the dense hail of bullets.
Others were still shouting slogans for the Blood God, only to be completely harvested.
The roar of heavy tanks approached, their treads crushing the flesh, grinding out a path through the piles of corpses.
Artillery fire sounded, and the rioters scattered and fled.
They could not withstand heavy tanks with their flesh and blood bodies.
Even those daemons had no way.
Their strength was still weak.
Furthermore, with the Emperor's power permeating Terra, they were at a disadvantage.
The tanks crushed them, utterly destroying the flesh that had just managed to form.
Soon, the daemons were expelled again in despair, and the rioters surging towards the Lion's Gate were also routed in the brutal slaughter, fleeing in all directions.
Those who remained were either crushed by tanks or harvested by the servitors.
"Lord." A soldier saluted Valerian, his gaze filled with awe.
In the battle just now, Valerian's performance was nothing short of a god of war incarnate.
His weapon swung, and everywhere he passed turned into scattered limbs and broken arms.
No one could withstand his strike, and no one could withstand his assault.
Valerian did not pay much attention, merely nodding.
He looked at the fleeing rioters, his expression stern. This was just the first time, just a beginning.
He knew those guys would come back again.
Valerian looked up at the sky.
The blood-red firmament burned fiercely, everything was enveloped within it.
The intentions of the Chaos powers were now completely clear.
They wanted to enter Terra.
Enter the most sacred Imperial Palace.
The Imperial Prime Minister's Office.
Tieron stood on the balcony of the Prime Minister's Office, watching sadly as everything was engulfed in flames.
The unliving were entrenched within, devouring the flesh of the ignorant.
The upper levels where he was located were under strict lockdown layer by layer. For now, it was relatively safe.
This was only temporary. As the rioters spread, the crisis would eventually grow larger and larger, ultimately leading to complete loss of control.
Such a rabble could never cross the walls by their own strength.
But the problem was that they would overload the city and weaken security, at which point necessary cleansing actions would have to be taken.
More importantly, the blood rituals performed by these rioters were weakening Terra's Warp barrier.
Everything was heading towards fragility, towards an unpredictable future.
After the riots and Warp storms appeared, Tieron could barely sleep.
He could only rely on large doses of sedatives to alleviate the frenzy.
The uncontrolled energy in the sky hissed, making true rest and contemplation impossible.
Even a glance seemed to reveal new terrors in the darkness.
Every half hour, Tieron would wake up screaming from his sleep, his hands gripping the sweat-soaked sheets.
Once, as Tieron tidied his face in the mirror, he saw a daemon's face leering at him from behind.
He had to smash the mirror to get rid of the hallucination.
Another night, he nearly suffocated in his dream, because he dreamt of being skinned alive by a butcher wearing a long-winged helmet, who was laughing uproariously.
Tieron held a high position, but he was just an unlucky man without psyker powers.
Experiencing these things was not a sign of his psyker awakening, but rather a terrible crisis descending.
The Warp's upheaval also afflicted ordinary people.
Despite being surrounded by countless protections, Tieron still felt panic and fear.
How terrified must those unprotected civilians be?
Tieron felt very sad; he should have protected those people.
But he didn't.
Tieron felt like a coward; he had ignored his promises.
He stayed in his Prime Minister's residence as much as possible, giving instructions to various units, coordinating their support and withdrawal.
Fulfilling his duty in an alternative way.
But such days did not last long. Tieron thought that in such days, his small past actions would be forgotten.
However, they were not.
One morning, after he had washed and dressed, he prepared to continue presiding over Terra's affairs, trying his best to minimize the empire's losses in this rebellion.
Walking into the hall, he smelled a faint scent of blood.
His personal guards lay in pools of blood. They were all dead, silently.
Tieron did not flee; he knew fleeing was pointless.
The opponent could silently eliminate his personal guards, and could also silently eliminate him.
The reason they didn't eliminate him silently was definitely because they wanted to see him, to savor his despair and pain.
Tieron straightened his clothes and walked in.
"'It seems you slept well, Tieron.'"
Iltus, the head of the Departmento Munitorum, sat on a throne in the hall, watching Tieron walk in.
"What do you mean by this?" Tieron looked at Iltus sitting on the throne.
"Cleansing traitors, Tieron. Your time has come."
Iltus, the head of the Departmento Munitorum, took out a bolt pistol, pointed it at Tieron, and said in a cold tone.