"For the glory of the gods, for the glory of the tribe."
Whispers of the gods echoed in Aisling's ears as he sat atop his Chaos Steed. The breath of Chaos swept through his soul.
Sweet whispers promised him ultimate power and the realization of destruction.
He came from the Northern Wastes, a place called so by those who had forsaken the glory of the gods.
It was connected to the realms of the gods - the Chaos Wastes.
Many warriors who craved glory and power would enter that terrifying place, seeking powerful weapons and the blessings of the gods.
Aisling had also entered the Chaos Wastes. There, he fought and killed all enemies, eventually entering the realm of the God of Slaughter, receiving the blessing of the Brass Lord, and becoming a powerful Chaos Lord feared by the world.
Such a life experience was unattainable for most people.
Many unfortunate souls would die tragically under the claws of mutated beasts on their first day in the Chaos Wastes.
Aisling's ability to overcome numerous dangers and ultimately receive blessings fully demonstrated how terrifying his strength and courage were.
Such achievements did not satisfy him or make him stop. There were many legends in the Northern Wastes, and he was just one of them.
He craved more. To offer more blood and souls to the God of Slaughter, and to gain more blessings and glory. Those who had forsaken the gods could not understand why anyone would embrace the gods, exchanging their lives for those insignificant blessings and rewards. They believed that what was gained from following the gods was completely disproportionate to what was given. Terrifying mutations, frenzied slaughter, and even souls would be twisted under the gaze of the gods.
In such circumstances, why would anyone give up a stable life to actively accept the blessings of the gods?
Aisling never bothered to explain himself.
Only ignorant fools would be blind to the salvation brought by the gods, seeing only the useless surface. The arguments and definitions of light and darkness were meaningless.
Power was the key to determining the future. Those who feared the gods, hiding in that hopeless place, clinging to life, considered themselves righteous and light, but in reality, they were just foolishly deceiving themselves. The gods were fair, without the disgusting scheming, only the law of might makes right. Those who had forsaken the gods stubbornly lived within their pathetic understanding.
Completely unaware of how beautiful the freedom the gods brought them was.
Where the gods descended, even the air was sweet. The gods did not discriminate against anyone; as long as you could show enough value, they would grant blessings.
Even a woman, as long as she was cruel enough and powerful enough, Khorne would consider her his champion and grant her blessings. That was true freedom and equality.
Aisling never expected those who had forsaken the gods to understand this.
After all, they had never even experienced true freedom.
All the suffering those fools endured was what they deserved.
What Aisling had to do was uphold the will of the gods and spread despair and fear to every place. To plunder the wealth of those fools and slaughter all their family and friends. To make them kneel before him, kiss his war boots, and beg for the chance to become slaves.
Every time the Chaos armies invaded the world of order. The tribal barbarians of the Northern Wastes were an indispensable part of the Chaos army. They were the Chaos marauders feared by Dwarfs, Elves, and Humans. These terrifying barbarians were covered in the blessings of the Chaos Gods and had various terrifying mutations. They possessed various grotesque limbs and fought with spiked flails, great axes, and heavy swords. Their fighting style could only be described as insane. Those guys had no reverence for death. They only hoped that their bloody battles and desperate struggles would attract the attention of the gods. The people of the barbarian tribes in the Northern Wastes, from the moment they crawled out of their slave mothers' wombs, already knew how to fight. The cruelty of the gods was evident from the moment they were born.
In the tribe, strength was paramount.
Only strong and healthy infants could get food and survive.
If there was even a slight problem, those weak, defective infants would be directly thrown into the wilderness by the tribesmen, to be torn apart by terrifying beasts.
No matter how much the infant's mother cried, it was useless. The useless should die; this was an eternal law.
Daily life in the tribe was fighting.
Even children's toys were various weapons. They did not engage in any production. That was something for lowly slaves to do. They would fight against tribes who worshipped other gods in the name of their gods, plundering slaves and supplies from the homes of fools who dared to resist the rule of the gods. The Chaos Lord ordered to attack Cathay - Aisling - was also a barbarian warlord who had grown up in the Northern Wastes.
He believed in the God of Slaughter, who championed courage and war.
After receiving the blessing of the Brass Lord, he had sworn to pave a path of glory for the God of Slaughter, who symbolized courage and war, with the heads of his enemies. The God of Slaughter was a wrathful and capricious deity, but he was absolutely fair.
As long as Aisling could bring him enough blood and war, he would not be stingy with blessings. The Everchosen had reappeared in that lost city, older than humanity. The doom of the world was about to descend upon this realm.
At the behest of the gods, countless warriors gathered under the banner of the Everchosen, hoping to follow him in conquering all directions.
An unprecedented wave of destruction would sweep across the world. The day of destruction was already counting down. The attack on Cathay was merely an insignificant part.
Larger actions had already begun. The Everchosen was ready to overthrow the world.
Sitting on the back of his Chaos Steed, Aisling gazed into the distance at the majestic walls, infused with the power of the Dragon Emperor.
warriors in brass armor, covered in human skin, stood behind him.
Each was accompanied by a squad of bloodthirsty Spawn of Khorne and several Skin Wolves, leashed and ready to charge out at any moment.
Heads were hung from their banners.
Aisling commanded a large tribe in the Northern Wastes.
Under his command were forty thousand warriors and countless slaves.
For this war, he had brought them all out. To break through the Great Bastion of Cathay, there had to be enough troops.
Of course, his troops alone were far from enough.
In this army, there were also the cult of the Changer of Ways, composed of sorcerers, and the host of the prince of Pleasure, a warband of the prince of Pleasure.
Each was commanded by a Chaos Lord. The cult of the Changer of Ways was made up of sorcerers and daemon priests. They could use the power of Chaos to unleash various powerful spells. They could not only summon Stone Golems but also twist the earth and change the terrain, creating advantageous ground for the Chaos army. The number of the cult of the Changer of Ways was small, but their combat power should not be underestimated. Those fanatical priests and sorcerers could fight against several times their number of enemies in battle.
Most of the members of the host of the prince of Pleasure were knights, riding centaurs or daemonettes with gender characteristics.
Various instruments of torture were installed on their mounts, and they sought pleasure from pain. Their army was also the most insane.
Slaves were pierced by rusty iron hooks and spikes, and whipped by overseers, letting out agonizing screams with every step forward.
Crimson blood dripped onto the ground, staining a scarlet path.
Some knights even copulated with those disfigured slaves who screamed until they fainted during the march.
Using this insane behavior to sacrifice to their god. These three armies were the main force attacking Cathay this time, and other factions also provided some support.
Huge numbers of twisted Chaos Steeds, corrupted by Chaos, pulled spiked chariots that rumbled forward, with slaves and defeated enemies fixed to them, letting out mournful screams. These Hellcannons were definitely the nightmare of those fools who were foolish enough to resist the rule of the gods.
Hell Steeds were covered in heavy steel plate armor, and their spiked hooves could easily kick apart heads, using their fanged mouths to bite and tear the enemy's flesh.
Steel scythes and spikes fixed to the wheels and body of the chariots gleamed with dazzling cold light.
Once they charged into the enemy formation, it was a brutal massacre. The spiked and studded body of the chariot would crush the enemies who didn't have time to escape.
Making the enemies truly feel what it was like for a nightmare to rush into reality. The warriors on the chariots were even more terrifying. They would use sharp blades and barbed whips to cripple or kill enemies attempting to approach. The formation of these terrifying chariots was unstoppable; once deployed on the battlefield, it was the enemy's nightmare.
Behind the chariots were altars for sacrificing to the gods. Tribes often carried shrines or altars of the gods when they marched to war. They went to war in the name of their gods, sacrificing directly to the Ruinous Powers on the battlefield. The styles of the altars varied, and if one knew something about the gods, they could tell which god an altar belonged to at a glance.
Altars for sacrificing to the God of Slaughter were often built from bones, decorated with brass and blades, piled with the heads of valuable enemies, and also displayed corpses.
Blood would continuously flow from the corpses on the altar. The altars were dragged by mutated giant beasts in heavy armor, and while used for sacrifice, they were also terrifying siege weapons. The God of Slaughter did not care if his altars were used as weapons.
He only cared if more blood could flow. The altars of the prince of Pleasure were often very luxurious, piled with various precious spices and silks, with a cloyingly sweet fragrance.
And the skin and hearts of devotees loyal to the prince of Pleasure, willingly flayed and their bones broken, placed upon them.
Sometimes, there would also be naked, full-bodied priestesses dancing enticingly before the altars.
warriors who had obtained enemy heads and passed the trials would have a certain chance to revel with the priests on the altar of the prince of Pleasure in various cruel and torturous ways, proving their devotion in full view of everyone. The altars of the Plague God appeared filthy, with various foul internal organs and an incredibly large number of parasites, flies, and corrupt stains carrying plagues. The altars of the Changer of Ways were relatively normal compared to the other three. They were basically polished from crystals that emitted brilliant light.
Skulls of failed masters of intrigue or sorcerers were placed on the altars.
Following closely behind were the Chaos dwarf armies.
Chaos Dwarfs' mastery of steam technology far surpassed that of their kin who had forsaken the glory of the gods.
In the Chaos Wastes and the Northern Wastes, the steam machinery of the Chaos Dwarfs was constantly digging underground like maggots breeding in rotten fruit.
Using their talents, the Chaos Dwarfs had built a terrifying kingdom deep beneath the dark earth. They drove huge tunnel excavators and drilling machines, working tirelessly day and night underground. The sides of these steel machines were rusted from being stained with blood.
Periodically, they would sacrifice large numbers of slaves in exchange for the protection of the Chaos Gods.
In that vast underground kingdom, various large machines roared day and night.
With the collision and eruption of steel. That resonant sound echoed through the earth.
Chaos Dwarfs preferred steel, flames, and steam, despising the weakness of flesh and blood. They were the important trump card of Aisling's Chaos army to break through the Great Bastion. Those steel behemoths pulled by steam engines would let Cathay know the might of Chaos.
Let them understand that a new era had arrived.
All living beings would prostrate themselves at the feet of the gods.
Chaos Dwarfs integrated evil magic with steel creations. They possessed various deadly creations.
Fragment Cannons that could spray deadly shrapnel, forming a barrage of death.
Lava Cannons that could fire lava shells or spray high-temperature flames.
Each of those colossal cannons was unique, forged by the daemon smiths of the Chaos Dwarfs, symbols of their honor and status.
Besides these, there were also rocket launchers, mortars, and numerous other artillery pieces.
Once unleashed, even a magnificent mega-city would crumble. The army stretched for several kilometers, immense in size. These individuals, like Aeslin, yearned to destroy Cathay's Great Bastion and bring ruin upon the unsuspecting children of the East. They wanted to burn their exquisite palaces with fire and pile the heads of men, women, the elderly, and children in the burning cities.
As they drew close enough to the Great Bastion, Aeslin saw the detested Sky-Junkers of Cathay flying out from within Cathay's borders. Those guys were a big problem. The reason why every attack on Cathay had failed thus far.
A large part of the reason was those Sky-Junkers. They would unleash artillery fire and bombs from the sky, disrupting the rear of the Chaos army.
Once the formation was broken, Cathay's cavalry and infantry would charge in unison.
Caught in a pincer attack, no matter how powerful a Chaos army was, it would collapse, and ultimately only be able to retreat in defeat.
Innumerable Chaos followers were cut down by the Cathayan army.
Moreover, Cathay also had dragons.
Unlike the wyverns of the West.
Cathay's dragons were slender and wingless.
But they were equally terrifying.
Despite lacking wings, Cathay's dragons could still fly. They were also covered in thick scales, harder than steel. Their hard claws could easily tear through armor blessed by the Chaos Gods.
From their mouths, they could spew terrifying flames filled with divine power. Their horns could also unleash terrifying bolts of lightning.
However, this time Aeslin was confident; they had enough anti-air power. The cult of the Conspirators had brought units capable of aerial flight. These modified Sorcerer-warriors rode strange, glowing circular discs inscribed with countless runes. They could unleash terrifying spells through sorcery.
When they were close enough, the Chaos Dwarfs pulled out their Hellcannons. They were lined up at the front of the formation, ready to bombard the towering city walls. The colossal cannons were cold and heavy, leaving trails on the ground as they moved.
Aeslin looked at the colossal cannons and the dwarf rockets, and he could not imagine what could stop them from breaking through the Great Bastion with the honor of the gods and turning the prosperous Cathay into scorched earth.
Anticipation and excitement surged within him.
Destruction always brought him unimaginable excitement. The destruction of beauty brought a twisted sense of satisfaction.
It was like how people always enjoyed watching the pure and lovely girl next door eventually become corrupted and fall under the abuse of a perverted uncle.
Unfortunately, fate did not favor Aeslin and his companions. They yearned to offer a feast to the supreme gods.
Soon, they would realize that they had been abandoned by the gods.
When the golden daemon god descended upon the Chaos Dwarfs' artillery, death and destruction followed.
A banner emblazoned with a golden double-headed eagle descended from the sky with a whistling wind.
It directly pierced through the Chaos Lord leading the Desolate Warband, who was blessed by the gods and tormenting a female slave with his tentacles, and nailed him to the ground.
It was as if a god of war stood in his divine kingdom, throwing a spear that turned into a meteor, ultimately piercing his enemy.
Among the warriors of the mortal world, Chaos Lords were the most feared beings. They were so powerful that they were like gods walking among mortals. They wore terrifying baroque armor, adorned with various heads and skins.
In front of them, Chaos Champions seemed tiny, even weak and powerless like children.
Every Chaos Lord had endured a long and arduous path. This path was filled with the shattered ambitions of those who were sacrificed and those who were defeated by the Lord's other competitors. They were unstoppable and powerful warriors. They possessed the astonishing strength of trolls and the cunning and agility of snakes. They held the blessings of the gods, were gods of death who destroyed cities and nations, and legends forged in blood and violence.
Yet, the Chaos Lord of the Desolate Warband died without even seeing his enemy. The female slave who was being tormented by that Chaos Lord let out a scream of terror.
She witnessed up close as the terrifying Chaos Lord, covered in slimy tentacles, was nailed to the ground and burned to ashes. The golden double-headed eagle banner unfurled before her, flapping in the air.
Some chaos warriors might have thought he was pathetic. To have come so far, only to die without even getting to fight.
Pathetic.
But Aeslin, who witnessed the arrival of that golden daemon god, felt that guy was lucky. That Chaos Lord died painlessly while enjoying pleasure.
He didn't have to experience the torment of shattered faith and despair like survivors such as himself.
Imagine, they painstakingly led an army of hundreds of thousands blessed by the gods, marching all the way, ambitiously preparing for a shocking battle, only to be slaughtered in a very short time.
How ironic that was for their faith.
"In the name of the Holy Emperor, in the name of the Great Emperor."
The metal pole of the banner was nailed into the bloated corpse of the Chaos Lord, and the golden double-headed eagle banner fluttered in the air.
An absolutely cold, absolutely rational roar also echoed across the battlefield, signaling the arrival of death.
A golden figure descended from the sky.
Valerian was one of the first Custodians to set out with the cross-universe exploration team; he had not received the most advanced Fourth Primaris upgrade.
He had only received the Second Primaris upgrade.
But he himself was a destructive entity forged by the Emperor using Golden Age technology, and he was further boosted by two Primaris upgrades and fragments of the Emperor.
How could a group of savage natives, merely blessed by the Chaos Gods, possibly be his opponent!!
When he landed from the sky, the immense impact force sent the nearby Chaos thralls flying. The weapon in his hand was covered in a Dark blue electrical arc according to his will.
A massacre that was enough to make many Chaos minions despair began.
Miao Ying stood on a Sky-Junker, watching the battlefield filled with screams.
She was glad that she hadn't rashly attacked and considered the other party an enemy.
Otherwise, she would have very likely brought an unimaginable powerful enemy upon Cathay.
After receiving the soldier's report at the feast, Miao Ying had changed into her armor, preparing to go to war.
Such a massive Chaos army was attacking.
It would undoubtedly be a long and brutal battle.
Valerian also put on his golden armor and brought a group of crew members, wanting to accompany Miao Ying on the expedition and lend her a hand.
Miao Ying, wanting to show him the strength of the Cathayan army and make him rein in his arrogant demeanor, allowed him to come along.
However, upon reaching the battlefield, the situation completely deviated from Miao Ying's control.
When Valerian ascended the Great Bastion, he directly leaped from the majestic wall that separated the eastern steppes and landed in the enemy formation several miles away.
Wielding the war halberd covered in electricity, he swept through the enemy army.
She couldn't see how many enemies were killed, nor could she see the process of the killing. The Chaos Dwarfs' iron cannons and steam trains were overturned and chopped into steaming scrap metal.
Powerful chaos warriors and Champions were cut down like wild dogs. Too fast.
Incredibly fast. There was no fairness whatsoever. This was a massacre.
A massacre of hundreds of thousands of Chaos minions by one daemon god. The Chaos thralls died one after another.
Without any dignity, without any honor. They were killed like ants.
Even the most insane storyteller in Wei Jing would probably not dare to tell such an incredible story. The Cathayan generals beside Miao Ying also fell silent. The massacre before them was something no mortal could achieve.
Beneath that body covered in golden armor lay the body of a god.
Aeslin, sitting on his Chaos steed, was trembling.
From birth until now, he had felt fear for the first time.
warriors blessed by the Chaos Gods died meaninglessly before that golden figure. They couldn't inflict even a single scratch on him. They were cut into several pieces before they could even react. That terrifying daemon god was emotionless.
In this grand slaughter, the other party showed no joy.
Only cold, extreme hacking. The gods did not like such a war.
No emotional frenzy.
No yearning for desire.
Only a cold pursuit of the objective.
For such an existence, mercy and hatred did not exist. The Chaos Dwarfs and their creations were destroyed together. Their artillery was reduced to fragments before it could even be brought into action. The armored dwarf warriors and their slaves became unrecognizable fragments of flesh and blood within a few breaths. They were mercilessly torn apart.
Fragments of steel, along with the shattered limbs of the dwarfs, flew through the air. The cult of the Conspirators attempted to use their sorcery to change the tide of battle. They let out piercing screams, unleashing spells in their fury.
However, every flame and lightning bolt they unleashed strangely extinguished before the opponent's golden armor.
It was as if some invisible force was blocking the magic and dissolving the Winds of Magic. The only thing those sorcerers managed to do, despite their best efforts, was to attract the attention of that golden daemon god.
After cutting down a mutated terrifying blood beast, that guy turned his attention to them. The sorcerers of the cult met their demise in screams. That golden figure charged into the ranks of the cult of the Conspirators like a lion into a flock of sheep, directly withstanding the terrifying sorcery.
Rows of sorcerers and slaves were cut in half with a single strike. The altar of the Lord of Change was also shattered in the battle.
Bodies and screams were everywhere. That powerful, blessed Chaos Lord wanted to unleash a terrifying spell.
But the opponent's speed was much faster than his. The war halberd easily cut off his head, causing the gathered magical power to dissipate into the air.
Aeslin witnessed this powerful Chaos army rapidly collapsing in a very short time. The slaves they had enslaved and tormented picked up dropped weapons and sought revenge on their masters who held spiked whips.
After the golden daemon god killed the Chaos Lord of the cult of the Conspirators, he turned his gaze towards Aeslin. This powerful Chaos Lord, a favored of the God of Blood and Courage, subconsciously made a decision that went against his faith.
He spurred his mount and turned to flee. The golden daemon god's cold, terrifying gaze froze his blood.
It was as if he was the next stalk of grain to be harvested.
He was not afraid of death, but such a meaningless sacrifice was unacceptable to him.
Aeslin fled.
Like a coward. The roar of the Blood God echoed in his ears.
Angry at his actions.
Valerian killed with all his might.
However, hundreds of thousands of people were scattered over an area of several kilometers.
Even if he killed as fast as possible, there were bound to be some who escaped. To be honest, this kind of killing might be better left to Titans or squadrons of aircraft. Their weapons could easily reduce everything within a few kilometers to ashes. The reason the Custodes and Primaris Marines were created was to eliminate powerful individuals or to act as assault troops to break open enemy fortresses. Their battlefield role was never meant to deal with these ordinary people.
Valerian did not pursue the fleeing Chaos Lord.
He did not even pursue any fleeing Chaos minions, nor did he attack those who knelt down to surrender.
When this Chaos army left behind countless corpses and fled in disarray towards the distance.
Valerian's objective had already been achieved.
He firmly believed that this display would make Cathay realize what they were facing.
Everything they had experienced before was just skirmishes.
Only by joining the Imperium of Man could they survive in the face of the true Chaos tide.
Only then could they resist the terrifying dark truth of the heavens and the universe.
Universe 01.
Imperial First Cross-Universe Outpost.
Galileo, now old and preparing for the end of his life, stood on the balcony outside his hospital room, gazing out at the magnificent and majestic city.
Several of his friends were by his side.
Several important figures from the Imperium in Universe 01 also stood in the room, listening to the old miner's last words and accompanying him on his final journey. The hospital room was large, like a grand hall.
Various advanced medical instruments were placed inside.
But no one paid attention to these; their faces were filled with sorrow, mourning the departure of another Imperial hero. Time is the most merciless thing in this world.
It has buried countless heroes.
Galileo left no descendants.
He had a Soul-less Seed implanted in his body, causing ordinary people to instinctively feel fear towards him.
Under such circumstances, it was difficult for him to find a suitable female partner and raise offspring with her.
But he had no dissatisfaction.
His life had been fulfilling enough.
"I am ready to return to the embrace of the Holy Emperor," Galileo said.
Upon hearing this, everyone in the room showed expressions of sadness.
As one of the first to open cross-universe tunnels and work in that dangerous environment until now, Galileo's experience was a valuable asset to the Imperium.
Many of his suggestions allowed numerous miners to survive in the dangerous tunnels and also reduced many losses for the Imperium. The successful construction of the cross-universe tunnels owes a great deal to the miners.
And Galileo, who participated in the opening of the first cross-universe tunnel and survived, was a strategic talent for the Imperium.
Many dangerous areas that appeared during construction were basically led by Galileo.
His name is destined to be remembered.
He was a meritorious servant of the Imperium.
And a meritorious servant of humanity.
Humanity's manifest destiny to rule the multiverse was never achieved because of one person.
It was forged through the sacrifice of countless human beings.
A heavy footsteps sounded, and several Astartes in power armor entered the room.
Everyone showed expressions of astonishment, and the person who appeared next made them feel even more incredible.
Dorn walked in from behind the Astartes.
He looked travel-worn, with fatigue on his face, clearly having squeezed time from his busy schedule to rush here.
"Lord Dorn."
"Lord Dorn."
Several officials saluted him.
Dorn waved his hand in response and looked at the physician beside him.
"How is the situation?"
"Soul corruption has appeared and he should not continue to receive life-extending surgery. He should be sent back to the realm of the Holy Emperor to sleep before the soul corruption expands," the physician said respectfully. "All implants have been shut down, his life force is waning, and his physical body could fall into true death at any moment."
A hint of reluctance appeared on Dorn's face.
Falling into a deep sleep in the Holy Emperor's realm is also equivalent to the death of the past. The soul requires a long time to recover from the wear and tear it experienced in the real universe.
For those like Galileo who worked in cross-universe tunnels, the risk is greater, and the time needed for sleep is also longer.
"On behalf of the citizens of the Imperium, I express my gratitude to you, Galileo," Dorn walked closer to Galileo's side and said in a deep voice. "You have served the Imperium for centuries; you are a meritorious servant of the Imperium, and a meritorious servant of humanity. I will petition the Holy Emperor to grant you the title of Hero, and there should be a sculpture of you in the Hero Square on the Solar System."
"I have never killed an enemy, how can I be a hero?" The flattered Galileo waved his hands repeatedly. The Hero Square in the Solar System is for the celebrated heroes of the Imperium.
Only figures worshipped by the world like Dante and Calgar, or those who made immense contributions to the Imperium and saved humanity from civil war like Tieron, have sculptures erected there.
Galileo never thought he had any right to have a sculpture in the Hero Square.
He was just a miner at first, and only after living a long time did he hold some managerial positions in the Cross-Universe Development Management Department and participate in meetings.
He never fought on the battlefield, never turned the tide, or saved the Imperium from peril; what right did he have to become a hero of the entire empire?
"The Imperium does not have just one battlefield," Dorn said softly. "You have proven your value, Galileo. Fighting in the cross-universe tunnels for so long with a mortal body."
The cross-universe tunnels were excavated deep in the Warp.
It was equivalent to working right under the eyes of the gods.
Galileo fought for the cross-universe tunnels his whole life, and even though he was just a miner, he shone brightly.
If such a person is not a hero, then what kind of person is a hero?
The warriors who wield swords and fight on the battlefield are heroes. The ordinary people who burn themselves out for humanity's path forward are also heroes.
Hearing Dorn's words, Galileo smiled.
He had never imagined that he would receive such an honor.
Under everyone's gaze, Galileo closed his eyes and welcomed his death.
His life was not particularly spectacular, but it was complete enough.
As an ordinary person, he witnessed the Imperium's first step towards the heavens.
Countless years later, when future generations regard cross-universe travel as normal.
Looking at the colossal and magnificent cross-universe tunnels, large enough for stars to pass through, curiosity will often arise in the hearts of those future generations.
What kind of sacrifices did humanity's ancestors make to open up such a path under such difficult conditions?
What kind of people were they!!
Why did they have the courage to accomplish such a great feat!!
Dorn witnessed Galileo's departure.
Another Imperial hero had dedicated his life to the great cause of the Holy Emperor.
He let out a soft sigh.
As a Primarch, he knew very well that the salvation humanity yearned for was in the distant future, and the Imperium's long journey would eventually consume generation after generation.
"Marshal, you should leave immediately. The flank forces are desperately covering, and they will create an opportunity for you to withdraw," the adjutant said.
"Even the most legendary hero will meet their end."
Hawk said calmly, looking at the holographic projection in front of him, "They want to win this war by attacking the commander's position. Order the flank to continue the attack; the Imperium will win this battle."
The war in Great Universe 02 had reached a fever pitch. The Imperium had broken through the Origin Wall and successively occupied several parallel universes. However, they encountered stubborn resistance in Parallel Universe 045. The superheroes, who considered themselves defenders of their homeland, united to resist the Imperium's rule. They were indifferent to the truth revealed by the Imperium, stubbornly believing that the Imperium was the invader.
Even though the Imperium constantly told them that the entire universe was merely a farmed existence. They believed that their families, their friends were real, that their past, their loved ones were also real. Then this world was real. The Imperium was the lie, the invader. They must unite, defeat the invaders, liberate those enslaved and deceived by the Imperium, and rebuild their beautiful homeland. The Imperium's Primaris forces had been sent to deal with a Legion of Monitors.
If superheroes were considered farmed poultry, then the Legion of Monitors were undoubtedly the farmers responsible for farming them. The two were not on the same level at all. Titus had no choice but to personally lead the Primaris warriors to deal with them.
Battles like dealing with superheroes could only be left to Hawk and others. The power of superheroes should not be underestimated. Whether it was the leader, Dream of Parallel Universe 045, or his right and left hands, Superman of Parallel Universe 043, Doctor Fate of Parallel Universe 048, Doctor Manhattan of Parallel Universe 066, etc., they all possessed formidable power. The problem was that they were not a real army.
Fighting individually, each of them was exceptionally capable.
Cross-galactic level campaigns are a great test of a commander's strategic thinking and strategic command abilities.
Expecting a group of superheroes who seek a sense of superiority over mortals to conduct this level of warfare is like asking a burly man who likes to eat peaches and feel cool to go to the battlefield.
Hawk, relying on his strategy, easily led them into his encirclement, trapping them on Genesis Star in Parallel Universe 107.
Numerous superheroes constantly won battles, while simultaneously realizing that they were losing the war.
When they realized they were cornered, they gathered together like cornered wild dogs, attempting to attack Hawk's position, forcing him to divert his flank forces to give them a chance to escape.
"Marshal, you are more important than the victory of this war," the adjutant said. "Those enemies are just petty characters; they won't last long."
"I am old," Hawk said calmly. "When I devised this strategy and replayed it, I discovered this problem. I actually made such a simple mistake, putting myself in danger. For this, I underwent an examination, and they said my soul was already weary. Even with all the technological means, I will continue to make mistakes."
"One strategic error doesn't mean anything, sir," the adjutant said. "You don't need to dwell on it too much."
"I made mistakes dealing with this trash; if I were to command large-scale campaigns, would I not make mistakes!!" Hawk looked at his adjutant. "The different time flow in this universe has accelerated my aging. Only a little over a decade has passed in the Imperium, while I have experienced one hundred and fifty years of combat in Universe 02."
Cross-universe tunnels connected the various universes, making them aware of each other's existence.
It was like two countries establishing diplomatic relations and having trade ties, allowing their currencies to be exchanged.
While time scales could be unified, the flow of time could not. Time flowed faster in some places and slower in others.
Aside from the influence of the Warp, the spacetime structure of each universe, and individuals who controlled the power of time, all contributed to the differences in time flow between universes. The time flow in some places reached an astonishing 1:100, or even more.
When the Great Rift tore through the galaxy, it also caused inconsistencies in time flow.
Some planets had been fighting for over a hundred years, while on others, only a few days had passed.
In fact, even without the Great Rift, time would be affected by gravity.
Just as the time flow on a neutron star is much slower than on other planets.
"Let the flank forces continue the attack. If they can be eliminated, at least fifty parallel universes will no longer have the power to resist the Imperium, allowing the Imperium to firmly establish itself in Great Universe 02."
"Do you really have to do this!! Even if you can no longer command battles, you can still retire."
"I don't want to return to the Holy Emperor's embrace with shame, I don't want to make a huge mistake in a future major campaign that leads to the failure of the entire campaign, and I certainly don't want to die in a sickbed. This is the best outcome. I will wipe out these vermin resisting the Imperium and welcome an outcome that is not too bad."