"Continue the advance!"
The commando team broke through the line at a single point, using their bodies to plug the gap in the barrier. Lion sensed the shift in the battlefield as hidden tactical opportunities emerged from the tearing darkness.
The Lion, with his keen sense for war, caught the scent of victory.
Relying on the fearless slaughter of their brothers, the Daemon army retreated to defend the gap in the barrier.
The situation on the battlefield had loosened; there was no longer a need to stick to a passive defensive posture. Instead, they had to seize the tactical opportunity and take the initiative by launching an attack.
The Primarch's gaze was sharp and lethal, fixed on the changes in the holographic sand table as he personally directed the counterattack against the demons.
With precise deployment, he organized the defensive units into two interlocking sawtooth formations, covering each other as they systematically ground down the outward-spreading Daemon army.
Command once again dispatched two companies of Doom Slayers to follow the route torn open by the charge, reinforcing the vanguard and opening defensive corridors for friendly forces in the rear.
As the human army used themselves as bait, the Daemon army naturally moved to block the reinforcements.
They roared and shrieked, closing in from both flanks to block the human army's reinforcement attempt and save the collapsing situation. Daemon Hounds, small and agile, darted through the hail of bullets.
These insidious hunters did not leap to pounce; instead, they performed a kneeling slide, aiming directly for the Doom Slayers' lower bodies.
The Khorne Flesh Hounds were twisted and lethal, their maws filled with interlocking blood-stained teeth opening horizontally. Without needing to tilt their heads to bite, their crimson eyes locked onto the weak points in the armor at the back of the knees.
The situation was critical!
This warrior had no time for anything else; his right hand's spear pierced three Bloodletters, his left arm's Dimensional Claws shredded demonic flames, and the shoulder cannon's firepower couldn't hit the low-charging hounds close at hand.
"Need help?"
In the nanosecond that passed, an inquiry came through the mental link; other brothers had noticed their kin's peril.
"No need," the reply was steady and powerful, without a hint of panic. In a rapid movement measured in milliseconds, the warrior launched his counterattack.
His movements were incredibly fast; even in the eyes of the demons, he remained an untouchable phantom.
A black auric-gold boot rose and fell, slamming like a heavy hammer onto the hound's forehead, ruthlessly crushing it into the ground as searing brain matter splattered out.
Because it had charged too fiercely, its neck snapped on the spot, its lower body flipped high into the air, and its four paws continued the charging motion unconsciously.
The warrior hooked his right hand, letting the shaft of the spear drop so the spike at the butt could pierce the Daemon hound's spine, completely eliminating the insidious hunter.
Then, switching to a reverse grip on the spear, a three-meter-long Dimensional Light Blade swept out. Several charging demons were cut in half at the waist, their bodies falling powerlessly as hearts and organs spilled across the ground.
At every moment, there were too many such situations on the battlefield. Wave after wave of the God of War's servants charged the human warriors in the most fanatical manner.
The Doom Slayer's light blade flipped, swinging hundreds of times a second and achieving even more effective kills, leaving a trail of mangled corpses wherever he went.
A faint pink fragrance filled the air. Three minutes into the battle, the Slaaneshi Daemon army began its sixth wave of assault. Matching the Dark God's sacred number, they surged from the gap in the passage toward Blazkowicz.
The demonic bodies were glowing, the Dark God's blessings visibly strengthening them. The Keepers of Secrets swayed in their dance, their dark purple lips murmuring whispers that spoke of every kind of temptation.
Slaaneshi Beasts galloped forth, flanking from both sides of the charging line. Their momentum was as swift as the wind, fully displaying the Dark God's path of celerity.
"Change formation, kill them!"
Blazkowicz was beside the Primarch, in the third echelon of the charging spearhead. There were fewer enemies at this position, making it convenient for him to issue commands.
With the Gene-Father as the tip of the spear, the formation behind him tightened quickly to prevent the line from being broken by the Slaaneshi cavalry.
The Slaaneshi Beasts licked the void with long tongues, ridden by Slaaneshi Dancers. They dove while shrieking decadent sounds, their running speed exceeding the speed of sound.
The thundering of ten thousand beasts served as the drumbeat. The Slaaneshi Dancers screamed in high-pitched excitement, their demonic voices soul-corroding and enchanting as they craned their necks to chant songs of corruption.
They were impatient to taste the warriors' burning souls and experience the ecstatic feast brought by pain.
"Slay!"
The cavalry swept past the charging spearhead. The Doom Slayers worked in pairs; the former slashed horizontally at the Slaaneshi Dancers, while the latter stayed low to slaughter the Slaaneshi Beasts.
Splash—!
A rain of purple demonic blood splattered across the battlefield as the beasts' entrails spilled out.
The cavalry crashed into the high-speed sawtooth formation. In an instant, flesh and blood flew everywhere as countless evil entities perished on the battlefield.
Slaaneshi illusions could not shake the warriors' resolve. The hypnotic dance steps were like those of a clown; before the firmest of wills, falsehood remained falsehood.
For those whose hearts were as solid as rock, the counter-response happened in a single thought.
"Aaaah!!!"
A shrill scream rang out as a Slaaneshi Chariot was smashed to pieces by Blazkowicz. The six Keepers of Secrets who had been riding it tumbled across the ground.
Before they could even crawl back up, the warriors' blades were upon them. Several Doom Slayers charged forward, and under their brothers' cover, hacked the Keeper of Secrets Great Demons into pieces before calmly retreating back to their original formation.
The mentally linked warriors cooperated as if they were a single person. Their movements were concise, their commands clear, and there was no hesitation.
Blazkowicz gripped a Keeper of Secrets by the throat. The Dark God's blessing of pain-pleasure was suppressed by the Godslayer. The look of enjoyment vanished from the Great Daemon's delicate face, replaced by pain that radiated from its neck to its entire body, revealing true fear.
A retractable blade snapped out, piercing through the lower jaw to scramble the brain. The Keeper of Secrets' graceful body stopped struggling and became a pale corpse.
The corpse flew out like a cannonball, clanging against a buckler and exploding into a burst of dark purple blood.
Shalaxi Helbane crawled up from the ground, its ram-feather crown tilted and its magnificent dress stained with demonic blood, looking utterly wretched.
"Give me your life!" Blazkowicz naturally recognized it. The scenes that had unfolded in the palace years ago were still vivid in his mind, and his eyes reddened as fury surged.
He took a quick step forward, kicked away a demonic weapon, and then kicked it hard toward the Slaaneshi Great Daemon.
The air was instantly torn apart as the demonic longsword turned into a black arrow. Shalaxi had no time to dodge and could only raise its double-headed sword to block.
The sound of clashing steel was intense as black sparks exploded. The hand of the Chief Great Daemon holding the blade went numb from the vibration, barely managing to block the strike.
It looked over from the corner of its eye, its heart filled with shocking horror.
The weapon personally blessed by the Dark God was trembling, its edge shattered, having suffered irreversible damage.
Before it could retreat, a figure charged up—even the Slaaneshi Great Daemon, known for its speed, could not see him clearly.
Almost out of instinct, Shalaxi raised its buckler, and then the world spun as its body was knocked backward rapidly.
When it regained its senses, there was a fist-shaped dent in the buckler. Its arms were trembling and numb, black demonic bones were exposed, its flesh and skin had been vibrated into mush, and half of its body had lost sensation.
The Chief Great Daemon looked up again. The Godslayer retracted his fist, killed another Keeper of Secrets with his longsword, and then turned his gaze back toward it.
It snapped out of the relief of its colleague taking the blow for it. Using its double-headed sword for support, it kicked off with its hind hooves and scrambled to its feet.
Just as it stood up, Blazkowicz caught a giant spear thrown by a War Machine, swinging it to shatter an incoming chariot and flatten the Keeper of Secrets Great Demon riding it.
Having dealt with the attacking Great Daemon, he searched for Shalaxi's figure, only to find the Chief Great Daemon limping and crawling away from the battlefield.
Wooo— Wooo— Wooo—
Blazkowicz gave up the pursuit and returned to the charging formation as the mournful sound of a horn reached his ears. The seventh wave of attack had arrived.
The seventh wave of assault corresponded to Nurgle's sacred number, the attack where the Dark God Nurgle's power was at its strongest.
Seven Great Unclean Ones, bloated as mountains, stepped out of the passage. Their steps were heavy, and they had lost their usual laughter; their fat faces were incredibly solemn.
The leading Daemon's body was decaying, and it held a rusted longsword. As the leader of the seven demons, it blocked the gap in the passage without yielding an inch.
Scabeiathrax. One of the strongest and oldest of Nurgle's Great Unclean Ones.
It resided in the Blighted Pit and wielded the 'Blade of Wither,' which caused anything it touched to rapidly age and rot.
The seventh attack was led by it personally, showcasing the great power of Father Nurgle.
With another powerful enemy appearing, Blazkowicz abandoned his pursuit of Shalaxi. He knew he had to retake the gap to gain the advantage on the battlefield.
The seven Great Unclean Ones were like seven mountain peaks forming a continuous range, standing across the path of the charge.
"Follow me!" Blazkowicz growled, leading his Gene-sons as they quickened their pace.
His Insight Authority captured an anomaly. With the arrival of Scabeiathrax, decay factors spread through the air, molecular structures began to break down, and even the auric-gold armor showed faint signs of corrosion under the Great Daemon's power.
The charging distance was close. Blazkowicz took out the super shotgun from dimensional space, loaded it with Emperor-blessed bullets, and rushed at Skabberthrax without hesitation.
Seeing the Godslayer charging, Skabberthrax's face twisted into a grin. His decaying body shrank rapidly, and his bloated arms gripped the Blade of Decay.
He felt heavy-hearted, knowing his massive size was a disadvantage against the Godslayer. He immediately compressed his body, trying his best to avoid the edge of the Crucible Sword. Ku'gath the Plaguefather followed suit, reducing his size; he intended to make room so they could swarm the Godslayer together.
While shrinking, Rotigus the Rainfather spewed rain clouds from the massive mouth on his belly. Under the authority of "Abundance," putrid green rain filled with corruption fell.
The rain of corruption had no effect on Blazkowicz. The consul armor was forged by the Emperor and the Old Ones from materials taken from the C'tan, making it immune to such rain.
However, the Legion's overall pace was forced to quicken.
The shining gold armor was inert to psychic energy, but there was always a limit. It couldn't be completely immune and would still react.
Traces of erosion on the smooth armor from the rain were subtle but real. If the Nurgle daemons weren't eliminated quickly, the power armor would soon fail.
Furthermore, Skabberthrax's presence symbolized decay. Every swing of the Blade of Decay in his hand accelerated the spread of corruption.
Had any other Legion been here, their ceramite armor would have long since rotted.
Only Blazkowicz and the Destroyer Legion naturally suppressed daemons, were immune to mental attacks, and could resist conceptual erosion.
No daemon before the Legion could withstand a single blow. By the time they reached the front, the seven Nurgle daemons were only seven meters tall, matching Nurgle's Sacred Number.
The two sides collided. Three Greater Daemons surrounded Blazkowicz, while the other four faced the Legion Warriors.
"Blazkowicz Novick!" Skabberthrax's voice was low as he led his two brothers to attack the Godslayer.
His rotting, ulcerated body twisted, his bloated arms unleashing immense power. The Blade of Decay slashed down rapidly; he gave it his all, not daring to hold back.
The Rainfather swung the twisted, gnarled scepter in his hand, scattering countless lives and plagues. He responded to his brother's strike with a forceful horizontal sweep.
Ku'gath's huge mouth opened, swollen and oozing pus, spitting out plague phlegm to counter the incoming Godslayer.
An attack from three of the most powerful Greater Daemons was something no being dared ignore—but they were facing Blazkowicz!
Bang!
Golden light exploded across the battlefield. Many daemons covered their eyes, unable to look directly at the vast radiance of the Emperor.
This place was very close to the Emperor, almost within reach. The power of the ammunition blessed by the Emperor was unleashed to its limit.
Golden light erupted from the muzzle, destroying the phlegm Ku'gath spat out and piercing his swollen belly. Intestinal fluids and pus splattered everywhere as rotting meat fell away.
Before Ku'gath's scream could escape, Blazkowicz's Crucible Sword and the Blade of Decay clashed violently!
His left hand tossed the super shotgun aside and reached out to grab the gnarled scepter. With just one arm, he blocked the Rainfather's attack.
Rumble—!
Beings beyond imagination were fighting, their power shaking the heavens and the earth.
The rain of corruption pattered down, and red thunder roared. This was truly a battle between gods and demons, drawing the gaze of countless onlookers.
Skabberthrax watched the man drenched in putrid green rain with a mix of shock and fear.
The longsword in the man's hand struck the Blade of Decay, chipping the conceptual artifact. His body trembled under the erosion of an even more malicious concept.
On the other side, the Rainfather was equally incredulous. The Godslayer had caught his full-strength strike with one hand, unwavering.
As a Greater Daemon under Father Nurgle, he had never chosen a divine artifact as a weapon due to his innate strength. Instead, he had taken a branch from the Garden of Nurgle to use as a scepter.
Now, Rotigus felt numb inside, his face beneath the red hood filled with bewilderment.
Within a ten-thousandth of a second, he felt an irresistible force. Accompanied by a sharp pain in his hand, the gnarled scepter was brutally wrenched away.
"Filthy things are not worthy of speaking my name!"
The man before them let out a wild roar. The sound waves shattered the corrupt rain clouds as he launched a thunderous counterattack with boundless fury.
The moment the red thunder fell, his right hand suddenly exerted force. Skabberthrax's hand holding the blade trembled as he watched the weapon slash toward him.
He hurriedly countered, ignoring the pain and wounds. He reached out to steady the Blade of Decay, using all his strength to prevent the cursed blade from getting closer.
Pinning Skabberthrax's sword down, Blazkowicz swung the captured branch with his left hand, stabbing it back into the Rainfather's chest.
Rotigus instinctively tried to dodge, but the gap in power made it impossible. He watched as the scepter tore through his ulcerated skin, broke through the pus-filled fat, pierced diseased bone, and stabbed into his slowly beating plague heart.
"Ugh... oh..."
A wail escaped his giant mouth. The gnarled scepter pierced through his back, the source of the Greater Daemon's power was destroyed, and the mouth on his belly vomited putrid green blood.
As he fell, he saw from the corner of his eye that the other Greater Daemons were also wailing in pain, on the verge of collapse.
The other four Greater Daemons were being besieged, their limbs hacked off. They were about to be utterly destroyed, with no chance of survival.
Seeing that the situation was hopeless, he quickly channeled his power to perform an escape spell, fleeing the disadvantageous situation.
His falling body shriveled rapidly. The Nurgle Greater Daemon fled the Real Universe, his daemonic essence returning to the Garden of Nurgle.
Blazkowicz ignored his departure. His left hand erupted with C'tan fire, engulfing Ku'gath the Plaguefather.
Nurgle Daemons were naturally weak to fire. C'tan Fire came from the fury of the Real Universe, condensed from the concept of high temperature. Its heat was beyond imagination.
Ku'gath rolled in agony. The flames scorched his skin, ignited his fat layers, and burned into the virus-laden bones formed by the plague.
His body swelled, and his pustules and herpes sizzled with grease.
Countless waves of pain swept over him. As the viruses dissolved, the feedback flooded his brain, and the Plaguefather rapidly weakened.
"Father—" the most favored Greater Daemon wailed. Unable to cast spells amidst the pain, he could only pray before the blades reached him: "Please take me away."
"Sigh—" A grand sigh echoed from the void, sounding in everyone's ears, gentle and kind.
Sanguinius, fighting bravely, knocked a daemon aside and looked toward the Warp rift. His eyes were filled with shock as he gripped his spear tightly.
Lion ElJonson instinctively raised his shield and also looked up, his face grim and cold, his sword-hand trembling slightly.
Both Primarchs felt an indescribable fear, not physical, but from the depths of their souls.
The owner of that sigh possessed power comparable to, or even exceeding, that of the Emperor!
Malcador's breathing quickened slightly. He breathed rapidly to calm the palpitations in his heart. Nurgle's appearance was unexpected, and he couldn't help but feel panicked.
Valdor, commanding the Imperial Guard, quietly retreated. He signaled the Queen of the Soulless behind him; if anything went wrong, they would leave immediately to protect the Emperor's body.
With the Chaos God's sigh, Ku'gath's body stopped struggling.
His soul left the burning body and returned to the Garden of Nurgle, back to Nurgle's side.
The Chaos God took away his most beloved Greater Daemon, along with Skabberthrax.
His body withered quickly. Once the essence departed, its resistance vanished, and it crumbled like sand.
Blazkowicz caught the falling super shotgun, holstered it, and then reached out to pull the interlocking Blade of Decay from his Crucible Sword.
The blade of this divine daemonic weapon was chipped, and it did not dare move in the Godslayer's hand.
"Constantin Valdor!" Blazkowicz growled, summoning the Commander of the Imperial Guard.
With the seven Nurgle Daemons gone, there was no longer anything blocking the gap. Reinforcements were needed to defend it and completely block the influx of the daemon army.
"Follow me." Valdor picked a thousand Custodians, stepped out of the defensive line, and quickly followed the Primarch's lead.
He knew this was a massive opportunity.
The daemon vanguard had been crushed by the Primarch. Khorne would soon organize an eighth charge, at which point the Blood God's army would be greatly strengthened. They had to be blocked within the gap to prevent the daemons from bypassing the Doom Slayers and spreading.
"Shrink the defensive line." Lion ElJonson drew a boundary on the holographic display, ordering the defensive forces to contract again and reclaim the areas occupied by the daemons.
He himself stepped down from the high platform, prepared to join the battle personally.
The defensive line contracted like a tightening pocket. The range of fire narrowed, and the warriors' combat zones overlapped heavily.
As long as they held their ground, they could trap the daemon army in the rift; no matter their numbers, they wouldn't be able to deploy effectively.
Reinforcements were about to arrive to take full control of the gap. Once the initiative was in their hands, whether to attack or defend would depend entirely on tactical needs.
Sanguinius descended from the air, his face and wings stained with red and blue blood. The Spear of Telesto pinned a large blue bird to the ground.
The first wave of powerful aerial enemies had been completely wiped out, and the flight squads were hunting down the remaining foes.
His golden warboots stepped on the head of the Lord of Change. This bird-like daemon had caused quite a bit of trouble earlier, nearly managing to cast a spell.
The Great Angel exerted force with his leg. The dying Greater Daemon of Tzeentch's eyes bulged, and blue blood overflowed from its beak, yet it wore a bizarre smile.
The Lord of Change was very happy; although its death was miserable and the process painful, it would not truly die, so naturally, it laughed joyfully.
The Angel ignored it, soaring into the air once more to strike at the enemies in the sky.
In the Real Universe, the battle raged on; warriors and demons were tangled together, fighting until flesh and blood flew and the world changed color.
Beneath the physical surface, there was another battlefield.
The Emperor ignored the Daemonic Armies of the Four Gods, his consciousness focused and piercing as it entered the depths of Pandora to find the world spirit.
He did not worry too much, nor did he pay much attention to the outside world.
Perhaps to the Emperor, the outcome was not important. Failure and success were not opposing poles; they were like twin vines entwined around the trajectory of fate. The variables affecting 'victory' or 'defeat' were not anxiety about the future, but depended on what was done in the present.
On the surface of Pandora, the Great Sacred Trees changed from white to gold; the Emperor had completed the initial sealing, making it difficult for the consciousness of the world spirit to extend.
He only had one thing to do—complete the ritual as soon as possible.
When would the war inside the passage end? This decision did not belong to the struggling soldiers, nor did it belong to the charging demons.
The Emperor and the Chaos Gods tacitly understood that the game between them would ebb and flow with the progress of the ritual.
During this period, how long the battle lasted was a matter of the chess players' strategic control.
The Emperor knew this well; he was imprisoned in a fire of 'anxiety,' yet he could not rush; he needed to proceed step by step.
Golden psychic energy was injected bit by bit, slowly eroding the world spirit, seizing its conceptual existence, and transforming it into the form the Emperor required.
The world spirit—a miraculous creation in the universe, the incarnation of a planet's ancient, spreading evolution.
It was born from an accumulation.
In the early stages of planetary life evolution, there were vast numbers of primitive life forms; they were numerous and possessed souls and wills, but were too weak.
So weak that after death, their souls found it difficult to enter the Warp, eventually depositing in the Real Universe and attaching themselves to the world.
Over time, pure souls accumulated to a certain number and fused together, giving birth to a relatively stable collective will with high intelligence.
Once the collective will awakened, it began to influence the world's species in reverse; the two evolved together, naturally possessing the potential to move toward becoming a higher race.
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The Emperor knew this well, so he moved steadily, using the most secure methods possible to erode and annex the collective consciousness.
He did not dare to be too eager and destroy this precious gift.
world spirits were rare to begin with, and they knew how to hide themselves; those suitable for occupation were even fewer.
For example, Terra, as the cradle of the human race, had a very fast biological evolution process; several mass extinctions did not provide enough raw materials for a distinct collective intelligence to be born.
Later, the Old Ones sowed wisdom, and intelligent races appeared.
If it weren't for the Old Ones, after a few more mass extinctions, Terra could have developed a world spirit to self-direct biological evolution.
Another example was Salz; it was too young, even showing signs of being a 'premature birth,' with its self-will still in an ignorant stage.
Forcibly establishing a soul contract would cause its will to collapse and return to a primitive state of nothingness.
Pandora was just right; its soul consciousness was sound and complete, and its essence was growing rapidly, equivalent to the 'adolescent' stage of a human.
It would also be bad if it passed this stage; once a world spirit became too powerful, it could trigger Warp storms with its will alone, making the establishment ritual often not worth the cost.
During humanity's past glorious era, the Emperor had heard of 'Catachan'.
That world's ecosystem was extremely xenophobic; the organisms were almost all predators, evolving frantically and radiating the most primitive malice.
Someone once wanted to destroy Catachan, as its existence was a potential threat; before the operation could begin, the high-orbit fleet was swept away by a Warp storm.
Whether humans eventually colonized Catachan, the Emperor did not know; after all, it was just a cosmic anecdote, and there were too many such events during the Great Colonization Era.
At that time, the Emperor did not know the reason; he just thought it was miraculous.
Later, once his knowledge had accumulated to a certain level, he guessed that Catachan had a fully mature world spirit, allowing it to remain independent in the universe.
Even with the Emperor's experience, he currently knew of only three world spirits.
Salz was as fragile as an infant, and Catachan was an irritable strongman.
Only Pandora had all the conditions just right, perfectly meeting the criteria to serve as humanity's resting place.
The will of the Emperor was a golden thread, hanging down from the sun high in the Warp; wherever it passed, demons retreated.
The golden thread passed through the psychic array and pierced into the white growth rings of the Sacred Tree.
The Emperor's body radiated psychic energy, which was guided by Malcador and injected into the twelve psychic arrays, declaring the official start of the erosion ritual.
The array platforms hung high in the sky; after the Emperor's power was injected, the array patterns glowed as if infinite golden psychic energy were pouring down, mapped through the arrays into Pandora.
The world of Pandora vibrated slightly as psychic power spread outward from the arrays; twelve golden rings expanded, crushing every basic atom.
The native creatures did not know why, but they lost their connection with Eywa, and fear welled up in their hearts.
The Emperor's will extended infinitely, screening and expelling the world spirit from every speck of dust; only in this way could it be foolproof.
As a will born from the remains of all things, its tentacles had long since permeated every inch of the world's soil; rigorous screening was essential and also the most mentally taxing.
Far away at the other end of the galaxy, Terra's Astronomican dimmed considerably, but it did not cause too much panic.
Before the Imperial Chancellor secretly departed, he left a resolution plan for the Ministry of Internal Affairs—Astronomican maintenance, no need for panic.
The high-level officials immediately ordered the Astropathic Choir to broadcast this news to the universe, high-handedly snuffing out those with ill intentions.
The battle in the Real Universe was still ongoing.
Three Primarchs held the breach of the passage to the death; the Imperial Guard and the Sentinels held the passes, while the Destroyer Legion charged into the passage.
The battlefield was never quiet for a moment; the roars of warriors and the wails of demons intertwined. The Angel soared through the sky, the scene looking like human heroic spirits fighting demons, a tapestry of holiness and bloodiness that was breathtaking.
The eighth wave of the Khorne Daemonic Army's assault was shattered by Blazkowicz; half of the eight hundred and eighty-eight Bloodthirsters died at his hands, his wild combat posture striking terror into the demons.
Sanguinius' wings showed no hint of purity, stained with Daemon blood and decorated in various colors.
The Great Angel vented his divine power, gasping for breath to recover his strength before charging at another Daemon, striking the vile creature down from the sky.
Before the warriors could even catch their breath, Tzeentch's ninth wave of attack arrived.
"Follow me!" The Lion's roar was deafening as his sword pointed at the Tzeentch army, calling for his own reinforcements.
Valdor moved at the sound, grabbing the back neck armor of the Soulless Queen and charging toward the Primarch, responding to the lion's call.
Most of the Imperial Guard did the same, grabbing the Sisters of Silence near them and rushing to the Commander of the Imperial Guard's side to form a charge formation.
Their attack target was clear: they quickly gathered and struck at the Daemon ground forces.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine Lords of Change, whose conspiracies were enough to destroy a galaxy, were gathered in the narrow passage to launch a frontal assault.
Horrors and Flamers—the Tzeentch army chanted incantations, bringing down Tzeentchian fire and burning the human army with sorcery.
Weakness, hallucinations, misfortune—almost every negative spell descended upon the human troops, weakening the Imperial Guard and the Sentinels.
Sanguinius made a prompt decision; his wings spread, tracing a graceful arc in space as he charged into the Tzeentch army's formation.
The flying units followed him, breaking through the Tzeentch army's magic arrays and interrupting the vicious psychic rituals.
"Anti-Psychic Missiles launching." The Iron Man reinforcements stepped onto the battlefield, pouring into the passage from the breach; the missile pods on their mechanical legs aimed at the sky.
When the mechanical feet of the Iron Man Legion crushed the rocks, Blazkowicz's tightened jawline finally relaxed slightly; the main force to counter the Tzeentch Daemonic Army had arrived.
The Tzeentch army had many flying units, and the ground troops couldn't reach them; the tide of battle had briefly been unfavorable, so the support came very timely.
"Stop those technological creations." Kairos' two heads screamed as its staff shot out lightning, knocking down the ominous missiles.
Its two heads, which saw into the past and future, saw the scene after the missiles exploded, where their advantage was greatly weakened.
Kairos Fateweaver—an extremely special Lord of Change.
The power to see into the past and future was immensely useful on the battlefield.
Kairos' hurried screams drew the attention of many demons, who followed the order to intercept the missiles launched by the humans.
Lightning and fire intertwined into a net; not even one in ten Spirit-Exterminating Missiles remained.
Only a few missiles broke through the defenses and exploded at the designated positions, scattering the Ashes of the Soulless to suppress the rapid psychic mutation.
But that was enough!
As the Iron Men entered the fray one after another, Heavy Firepower Platforms locked onto the passage entrance. Spirit-Exterminating Missiles poured out like a tide, and the barrage formed by various weapons completely covered the flying enemies.
"Quickly, stop the humans and machines!" Kairos foresaw a terrifying future, then bent an incoming ray and urged his other colleagues to act again.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The actual combat situation was elusive; on a battlefield where destiny changed in an instant, even prophecies could hardly keep up with reality.
More Spirit-Exterminating Missiles exploded, ruthlessly negating the ethereal psychic energy. The interception force gradually weakened, entering a vicious cycle.
"Damn those soulless ones!" The Greater Daemon of Tzeentch groaned in pain as the Soulless Powder dispersed everywhere, causing psychic spells to weaken rapidly.
Coupled with the Godslayer's suppression of psychic energy, the power of the Lord of Change was obstructed, making it difficult to bring disaster upon the human troops.
Even those cold machines were equipped with some kind of psychic shielding device to prevent Scrapcode intrusion; they were clearly well-prepared.
At the upper end of the passage, the swarm of demons retreated again and again, flapping their wings to increase their safe altitude.
The demons on the ground felt miserable. The Ashes of the Soulless filled the space; they felt difficulty breathing, and their physical forms rapidly weakened.
"Five-man squads, banish the demons." Blazkowicz issued a dispersal command. There was no longer a need for a shock troop; it was time to spread the combat power to suppress the demons.
After killing demons and absorbing their essence, the Gene-sons' strength had grown several times over.
Breaking up the team to kill the Daemon army was beneficial to their growth, allowing them to remain flexible while slicing through the demonic lines.
Inside the passage breach, the Daemonic Armies of the Four Gods were packed densely. They were endless, so dispersing and cutting them off was the only way.
"As you command."
Blazkowicz responded while killing a Brass Juggernaut. The Legion brothers quickly formed five-man teams to expand the effective kill zone.
"Watch the sky." Before moving, Blazkowicz reminded them to watch the top of the passage, where demons were still constantly rushing down.
"Flight Equipment will arrive in one minute," Blazkowicz raised his left arm, shaking off the Daemon blood. A holographic projection popped up: "Once equipped, we will immediately support Sanguinius."
The Archon's arrangement was sound.
Blazkowicz crushed the skull of a Keeper of Secrets and led the Primarchs Guard away from the main group to support Lion.
"Odysseus!" he growled, grabbing a Bloodthirster and lifting it high, pointing towards Sanguinius in the sky: "Go support my brother."
Beside Sanguinius, there was only a flight squad of a hundred members of the Imperial Guard, pinning down nearly a thousand winged demons, dancing on the edge of danger.
Most of the other Imperial Guard equipped with Jump Packs circled above Valdor's head, protecting the Sisters of Silence and the Primarch.
Odysseus heard the call, looked back at the Blood-winged Angel, and then saw the Primarch reinforcing the team. He no longer hesitated: "Leave a hundred men on guard; the rest, follow me."
Three hundred Imperial Guard warriors turned and flew toward the sky to reinforce The Great Angel, who was pinning down the enemy.
Blazkowicz slammed down with force, and the Bloodthirster instantly shattered into pieces. The massive power surged through its body, turning it into a pile of mush.
He did not stop. His super shotgun fired constantly, picking off Greater Daemons of the Four Gods one by one, making it difficult for the demonic army to form a wave.
The only drawback was that humans and demons were now mixed together in the slaughter. The Reaper Shoulder Cannon did not distinguish between friend and foe, so large-scale scattering could not be used for now.
The Void Dragon controlled the shoulder cannon, its annihilation rays precisely picking off demons, letting out a weird laugh from within the armor.
Lion charged at the forefront, his Kite Shield held high, blocking the spells launched by the demons.
After some time of familiarity, he discovered the wonders of the Kite Shield; it could block enemy attacks and also precisely reflect them back.
The Power Sword gifted by his brother was indestructible. Combined with his own strength, those filthy existences known as "Greater Daemons" were like a bunch of clay chickens and pottery dogs.
He parried the great axe of a Red Greater Daemon, and his longsword thrust out, piercing the Greater Daemon's chest and ending the enemy in his path.
The shield tilted slightly, and a bolt of psychic lightning was reflected back, killing a group of lesser demons.
The Primarch's power was obvious to all. Lion struck a thousand times in an instant; the wings of a Blue Greater Daemon were stripped away, its throat shredded, and it became a pile of minced meat upon hitting the ground.
Facing an ugly Purple Greater Daemon, he broke its feet with a sweep kick and then swung his sword to sever its throat.
Shaking the blood off his blade, Lion actually felt that the demons, individually, were not particularly strong.
However, their numbers were vast, and one must never be surrounded.
Valdor, following the Primarch, had sweat on his forehead. The Commander of the Imperial Guard adjusted his breathing and recovered his stamina to ensure he could keep up.
This terrifyingly fast-paced battle made him feel immense pressure.
If Blazkowicz Nowick hadn't led the Legion Warriors to pierce through the Daemon defensive line and block the Daemon army back into the passage breach, the warriors present would have suffered unknown sacrifices.
Witnessing the terrifying combat power of the Doom Slayers, the Commander of the Imperial Guard finally understood why the Emperor had spared no expense to create this Legion—their power was truly peerless.
Moreover, as the time spent killing enemies increased, the Legion Warriors became even stronger. It seemed as if some mysterious power was constantly enhancing them.
Valdor noticed that the top performers among the Legion Warriors were becoming almost equal to himself; their growth rate was incredibly shocking.
The Commander of the Imperial Guard felt a bit of jealousy in his heart.
He admitted he couldn't compare to the Primarchs; those beings came from the Warp and were demigods walking among men.
But now, even the Astartes of the Destroyer Legion had the potential to catch up to him, which naturally made him feel a bit uneasy.
Fortunately, for various reasons, the Twenty-First Legion stood firmly on the side of humanity.
"Back off!" A clear shout pulled Valdor back to reality. The Soulless Queen concentrated her mind, using her Soulless Field to suppress a Great Unclean One of Nurgle.
Valdor instinctively swung his sun spear, decapitating the Greater Daemon and ending the calamitous creature.
Demonic memories surged up again. The Commander of the Imperial Guard was already used to it and filtered them out of his brain.
The sun spear was forged by the Emperor himself. Not only was it incomparably sharp, but it also possessed a miraculous ability.
When the spear pierced an enemy, the Commander of the Imperial Guard would know their name and past, understanding the deceased's lifelong experiences and their final fate.
He swung his weapon again and again, dismembering the demons before him. The countless memories did not cause the Commander of the Imperial Guard to waver in the slightest.
Suddenly, Valdor felt the situation change. He keenly noticed that some demons actually seemed to be actively seeking death.
Their faces were still hideous, with cunning hidden within, and the weapons they brandished were lethal and poisonous.
But on a battlefield where details determined life and death, he clearly felt that the demons were intent on dying, no longer as enthusiastic as when they first arrived.
Then, a wind rose behind Valdor's head, and a phantom flashed past him. A red sword-light turned into a meteor, leaving behind a series of dense afterimages.
The Commander of the Imperial Guard's body stiffened as he tried his best to interpret the movements remaining on his retina, analyzing what had just happened.
Within a millisecond, the Primarch had flashed past him, slaying demons along the way and leaving a trail of blood and gore.
In that time, which was slow relative to himself, over a thousand demons were decapitated, and several Greater Daemons were smashed into rotten meat before they could even react.
He finally understood why the demons were in a hurry to die.
The red meteor flashed by, circling the charging team once and clearing out all the surrounding demons.
"Quickly, go destroy that formation!" Lion roared urgently. A hint of fatigue that shouldn't have been there appeared on him; the Demonic Formation was beginning to take effect.
Blazkowicz did not linger upon hearing this. His Crucible Sword swung so fast it was airtight, slicing all the demons in his path into fragments.
With no allies in front of him, the Reaper Shoulder Cannon began to charge. The essence of the demons within the fan-shaped area was extracted and then fired back out!
Wherever the cold touch of death reached, the Daemon army met true death, dissipating into ashes.
"Stop him!!!"
Above the formation, the panic of the ninety-nine Lords of Change was visible to the naked eye. Countless spells were fired from their hands.
Frost, fire, time, gravity, storms—hundreds of spells struck, turning Blazkowicz into a ball of light.
"Brother!" Lion roared, charging forward with his shield raised.
Crack—!
All sorts of spells shattered. Gravity returned to normal, time no longer stagnated, and frost and fire were both underfoot.
"Screech!!" The shattered spells were accompanied by shrill cries. The echoes of the broken spells exploded; the throats of the Lords of Change burst, their staves shattered, and their shrill cries fell along with their bodies.
Witnessing his brother's feat, Lion stepped on the corpses of the demons, his blade hoisting a Daemon's head as he raised his arm and shouted: "Magnificent!"
Blazkowicz's pace did not stop. The moment he stepped into the formation, the Chaos Magic vibrated violently and then collapsed beneath his feet.
He threw out the Crucible Sword with an outstretched arm. The God-slaying Sword flipped several times before plunging into the center of the formation. With a boom, the entire Demonic Formation shattered into sparks.
"We have failed."
A long sigh came from the depths of the Warp, smoothing the surging waves.