Don't misunderstand.
What made the world Eaters Archon's face turn green was not rhetoric or metaphor, but the 'green tide' frantically spreading from the center of the explosion.
Something bad happened!
This was the first thought that popped into the world Eaters Archon's mind, followed immediately by.
"This is going to be bad."
It is well known that.
The Orks, a species that originated from the Old Ones created by the Old Ones, have their most terrifying aspect not in their fearless fighting spirit, nor in their incredible 'I reckon power'.
The one thing about Orks that disgusts the Imperium, Chaos, the Eldar, the Necrons, and even the Tyranids, is their terrifying reproductive characteristics.
There's a saying that can be used to describe Orks.
That is, when you see one Ork in front of you, it means that this place will soon have an endless tide of Orks!
Orks are not biological in the common sense; more accurately, they are 'fungal' life forms that reproduce asexually through 'spores'!
This means that unless every single tissue of an Ork is completely eradicated, even if an Ork is killed physically, the massive 'spore cloud' it emits upon death will spread through the atmosphere, and as long as the conditions for gestation are suitable,
more Orks will soon 'grow' again!
Not killing them?
That won't work either. As long as Orks are to live, they will constantly exhale gas containing 'spores', and these gases will also give birth to their kind.
The only thing that can limit the number of Orks is extremely harsh climatic environments, such as deserts, icebergs, etc.
But, this is Draconys!
Draconys is a giant Chaos world specifically crafted by the Chaos creator Vashtorr to lure the Dark Angel Legion. It is covered with numerous daemon factories, sacrilegious souls and flesh, and every inch of its land can be said to be soaked in blood!
And such an environment, for Orks who rely on darkness, dampness, warmth, and organic matter, is simply the legendary "Paradise"!
The waste discharged from the daemon factories, including flesh, bones, pus, and engine oil, are all important conditions for Ork reproduction!
And the dark, damp, and warm pipes are the favorite environment for these Orks!
It only takes a few hours—no, in a heavily polluted environment like Draconys, it might not even take a few hours. Perhaps the Ork spore cloud will spread to every corner of the continents and oceans.
Then, an endless stream of Gretchin will crawl out from the filthy drainage pipes of the daemon factories, every dirty, blasphemous blood swamp, becoming the first wave of armed Ork infantry!
Following that, one after another, Ork fortresses, war wagons, airships, turrets, and other war constructs built from wreckage, ruins, and garbage will emit rolling black smoke and roar as they surge towards every daemon factory on Draconys!
And once the number of Orks reaches a certain level, what they will face next is the "Waaagh" formed by the convergence of their collective will!
Once these damned green-skinned monsters collectively decide on something, let alone daemon primarchs, even a Warlord-class Titan can be overturned.
Upon thinking of this possibility, the world Eaters Archon cursed, wondering what the space fleet was doing, unable to even stop the Orks!
In fact, the Chaos fleet surrounding Draconys initially did try to intercept, but as the paralyzed Rock Fortress regained power, this ancient monastery of the Dark Legion immediately demonstrated its ten millennia of accumulated heritage to these traitors.
Just one shot from its main cannon, its terrifying Warp psychic torrent, directly annihilated Chaos warships within a radius of several hundred kilometers!
It was this one shot that allowed the Orks to find a gap. An Ork warship, cobbled together from discarded wreckage, immediately broke through the outer defense line and descended above Draconys' orbit.
This sudden green tide completely disrupted the world Eaters Archon's plan. The encirclement meticulously set up by the world Eaters and daemon legions was also cut off by these damned bastards, and the world Eaters companies on the flank instantly plunged into a bloody melee with endless Ork boyz!
Ork logic is simple.
Whoever looks tougher, more powerful, and more 'fight-worthy' is the priority target.
Looking at the entire battlefield, the world Eaters Terminators' crimson heavy armor, the deafening roar of their chainaxes, and the fact that they were besieging another group of 'tough nuts' who looked less formidable and were pitifully few in number—it was surely not difficult to choose who to target.
The world Eaters perfectly fit the Orks' entire definition of a 'fight' target.
Without any provocation from the Dark Angels, these Orks enthusiastically roared and charged at the world Eaters like a green tide.
The Mekboyz, driving clanking Killa Kans adorned with unknown decorations, used crudely welded cannons made from recently plundered armor and vehicle wreckage to unleash a barrage of firepower at the taller, bigger, and redder world Eaters Terminators.
And in the sky, Ork boyz piloting tattered airships screamed as they swooped down from high altitude.
Bottles and cans, ragged like raindrops, were thrown from the airships by the Ork boyz, scaring the world Eaters squads on the ground into frantic evasive action.
Their armament seemed crude, yet no one dared to underestimate them.
After all, who knew what bizarre contraptions these crazy green-skins could create?
"Damn fungus bastards!" The world Eaters Archon roared in a fury, cleaving an Ork boy who dared to attack him. Foul green blood splattered on his visor. He roughly wiped it away and raged, "Crush them for me! Don't let these fungus bastards delay the Blood God's feast!"
Initially, the world Eaters Legion, relying on numerical superiority, held the advantage in their encirclement of the newly spawned Orks.
But gradually... things started to feel wrong.
More and more Orks suddenly surged from all directions.
These Orks were all armored, and although their armor looked like it was welded together from scraps compared to refined power armor, each one was extremely ferocious, forcing the world Eaters and daemon legions, along with the encircled Dark Angels,
into an even larger encirclement!
"Where did these fungus bastards come from?!"
Not only the world Eaters Archon, but even the Dark Angel Chapter was shocked by this scene.
Something's not right.
It's twelve parts not right out of ten!
Logically, even if Orks reproduce quickly, it would still take at least a few hours to assemble a sufficient force, but—the number of this Ork legion that suddenly surrounded them from the outside clearly exceeded the conventional scope!
It couldn't be that they just appeared out of nowhere, could it?
As the world Eaters Archon felt confused, the sky was suddenly torn open again by a streak of light.
A colossal, rough, metallic meteorite, shrouded in foul green light and raging fire, descended upon the meticulously constructed defense line of the world Eaters Legion, like a giant hammer hurled by a savage deity, in an utterly breathtaking manner!
"WAAAGH!!!!"
A terrifying war cry, as if tearing the firmament, swept across the entire battlefield like a storm, imbued with pure will of destruction!
In an instant, the already frenzied Orks plunged into an even greater state of madness. They howled, like a green tsunami, spreading from one to ten, then ten to a hundred, and under the bizarre field's enhancement, it enveloped every corner of the battlefield!
The metal meteorite that fell on the flank of the world Eaters, its Impact and high temperature instantly melted dozens of world Eaters!
Under this powerful Impact, the earth's rock layers groaned in pain, and spiderweb-like cracks spread rapidly; a visible, violent Impact, like surging tides, immediately cleared out the daemons and world Eaters within a few hundred meters!
Amidst the pungent smell of burning and the thick, unresolvable scent of blood, a giant, terrifying green figure stood tall.
He stood in the center of the crater, his massive body clad in filthy metal armor, with rough rivets welded at the joints; the fangs of an unknown beast hung like ornaments on his shoulder; his lower jaw, made of metal, gleamed with a chilling light, like a mobile fortress of slaughter; his green eyes scanned the battlefield, revealing a grim, ferocious smile.
A blood-covered chainaxe was held in his single hand, its saw teeth spinning wildly, emitting a hungry shriek.
He suddenly swung it, and the sonic boom of the saw teeth tearing through the air ignited the frenzy of the Orks on the battlefield.
"I am Skullkrak, the Bonebreaka! For Gork and Mork, lads, crush these red skins!!!"
The world Eaters' Praetor's face, upon seeing that massive Warboss, looked as if he had swallowed a dozen flies – no wonder so many Orks had appeared out of nowhere; so there was a 'Warboss'!
Wait, Skullkrak, the Bonebreaka?
The world Eaters' Praetor's mind instantly went blank.
Warbosses are the core and soul of Ork tribes; they are the embodiment of strength, brutality, and ran, as well as the leaders who unify entire Ork tribes and launch a massive Waaagh!
A capable Warboss' will and desire for battle will strengthen the entire tribe.
This allows more and more Ork lads to focus their power on the same goal, generating an even stronger 'I reckon' field.
Warbosses only rise through pure violence, and only the strongest and most cunning Orks can rule a tribe.
Failure for them means death, or being replaced by other Orks.
However, Skullkrak, the Bonebreaka, is different from these traditional Orks, even other Warbosses.
He is known as the Great Evangelist of the Orks, easily able to incite the Orks of an entire world to join his bloody and fanatical conquests; even hundreds of millions of Orks are willing to follow him and fight in his name!
He even orchestrated multiple super-large-scale Ork tribe attacks targeting the Armageddon sector.
The destruction of Pyranis and Valantos indirectly led to the Sebastian sector falling into unprecedented famine and arms shortages, allowing Chaos to exploit the weakness and cause the far-reaching Imperial Malaise.
Skullkrak's tactical style is completely different from that of conventional Orks.
He is extremely obsessed with destruction, even destroying the ecological and atmospheric environments of occupied worlds multiple times.
The purpose of this was merely to ensure that even if the Imperium were to reclaim the world in the future, it would be unable to redevelop or use it.
The Imperial Daemonifuge, Kalast Tyk, once said of him.
"Skullkrak is not a traditional Ork; his destruction has no strategic purpose, he merely pure enjoys the ritual of all things withering. When encountered, it is recommended to prioritize an extermination order."
From this, one can also see how significant 'Skullkrak, the Bonebreaka' is in the eyes of the Imperium.
However, Skullkrak, the Bonebreaka leading an Ork tribe, appearing on world Draconys is not a good thing!
How did this guy end up here?
Didn't they say he was killed by Imperial Yarrick during the Third War for Armageddon?
A series of questions filled the world Eaters' Praetor's mind.
But this Warboss was already itching for a fight; Skullkrak roared as he smashed through a squad of world Eaters Terminators, then each step was like a landslide, carrying boiling steam and green fog, heading straight for him.
"Big toy! My big toy!"
A low, excited roar, like rolling thunder, rumbled in Skullkrak's throat.
His sole remaining eye locked onto the world Eaters' Praetor and his elite guards, a greedy glint flashing madly within it, settling on the most conspicuous Praetor; the man fiercely protected by the red cans must be the most valuable trophy!
This is bad!
The world Eaters' Praetor's pupils contracted; damn it, he had been targeted by this beast!
"Waaagh!!!"
Skullkrak howled to the sky, the sound waves spreading out like a tangible Impact, briefly overpowering all the noise of the battlefield.
His massive body exploded with terrifying speed completely disproportionate to his size; the heavy chainaxe dragged on the ground, like a plow, turning the hard rock and world Eaters into bloody paste!
The Praetor and his conspicuous honor guard were clearly the most valuable enemies in Skullkrak's eyes; his violent charge was unstoppable by any enemy attempting to block his path!
Whether it was world Eaters Terminators or even the equally bloodthirsty Ork lads trying to snatch his trophies, all were pulverized by his unmatched brute force and the swings of his giant axe!
Seeing that the situation had completely fallen into 'ran', and the world Eaters' Praetor was entangled with Skullkrak, no longer able to pay attention to them, Emrys finally breathed a sigh of relief.
This was the situation he wanted: to have the world Eaters and the daemon legions entangled by these mad Orks so they could escape. Thus, Emrys' voice rang out in the comms array.
"The opportunity has come! Everyone, move towards me immediately! I will lead you out of here!"
The grandmaster on the front line swept his cold gaze across the battlefield, giving precise and merciless orders.
"Those who can still move, retreat immediately. Third, Fourth, and Sixth Squads... remain in place and carry out the blocking mission."
"For the Emperor, for Lion."
The three named squads unhesitatingly picked up their bolters and chainswords, replacing their comrades who were blocking in the trenches ahead.
It was clearly impossible for everyone to retreat.
No matter what, they had to leave some people behind to block the Chaos advance, to buy a glimmer of hope for more people.
"Now!" Azrael's voice was decisive; the Chapter members, already prepared, turned and withdrew from the battle without hesitation.
They were not breaking out, but contracting inwards!
Hundreds of Dark Angels, after hundreds of bloody battles, now numbered less than a hundred, and the Sons of the Forest had suffered heavy casualties, with the fully organized First Company having barely more than fifty men left.
These men gathered around Emrys, vigilant of their surroundings.
Emrys took a deep breath, hastily channeling his psychic power to communicate with the Warp.
A tranquil, mysterious forest path appeared without warning from the ruined fortifications. Azrael looked back at the members still holding the line, blocking the enemy, and said coldly, with no emotional fluctuation in his voice.
"Retreat!"
The remaining Dark Angels and Sons of the Forest maintained perfect formation, swiftly and silently rushing into the forest path one by one.
"No—Emrys!!!"
The world Eaters' Praetor, seeing this, roared in unwilling fury, his eyes nearly bursting!
After gathering his remaining forces and retreating into the 'forest', Azrael looked back at his battle brothers, bastard Dark Angels, who had fought alongside him, and a wave of bitterness surged within him like a turbulent tide.
After days of bloody battle, traversing hundreds of kilometers, almost travel half a continent to reinforce the 'Sons of the Forest', even the elite Dark Angels had suffered heavy casualties.
Not to mention the Ravenwing, whose command structure was almost shattered, with grandmaster Sammael gravely wounded and having lost an arm; the Deathwing's Terminator Squads were reduced to less than one in ten; even the Chapter's ancient relic, an old Dreadnought that had followed the Lion during the Great Crusade, had to self-destruct to cover their retreat and hold back Khorne's Daemon Prince.
After this battle, the Dark Angels could be said to be severely weakened, but what made them even more uneasy was that, so far, due to the Chaos code paralyzing the communication arrays, they still did not know the current situation of the Rock Fortress.
And all of this stemmed from his erroneous command.
If he hadn't been so arrogant, if he hadn't been blinded by the resemblance of the Dragon Forest world to 'Caliban', if his reason hadn't been consumed by anger, and if he had investigated the Chaos ambush more thoroughly before ordering the main force to land, how could it have come to this?
If he had been a little calmer.
Things wouldn't have escalated like this, the Dark Angels wouldn't have suffered such heavy losses, the Rock Fortress wouldn't have fallen into a trap, and they wouldn't have needed the "Fallen Angels" to rescue them!
An incompetent general brings ruin to his army.
At this moment, Supreme grandmaster Azrael was likely feeling exactly this way, ashamed of the honor of being a Son of the Lion, and ashamed of his duty as Supreme grandmaster!
Guilt and anger, regret and shame, like an invisible sharp sword, pierced through his pride!
"Lord Azrael, let everyone rest."
Emrys spoke slowly.
Azrael awoke from his guilt and saw the Dark Angels, still standing firm as pines, their eyes burning bright, even though their armor was stained with blood, and many battle brothers were at their limits, yet they refused to rest without orders.
"Rest in place."
With a complex emotion, he said softly, "No need for vigilance, it's very safe here."
With the Supreme grandmaster's order, these wounded Dark Angels finally lowered their guard and sat down in silence to rest, but a few still walked to a nearby spot to stand guard.
"We need to talk, Lord Emrys."
The Supreme grandmaster hesitated for a few seconds but still acknowledged the other's identity.
No matter what, even if he still had some reservations and opinions about how easily the "Fallen Angels" were pardoned, the other was, after all, the First Guardian Knight and grandmaster personally appointed by the Lion, and he needed to show due respect.
"Alright."
There hadn't been time before, but now that they finally had a moment, Emrys also needed to discuss with Azrael how to resolve the current situation.
The first meeting between the two Chapters, the Dark Angels and the Sons of the Forest, was held in the humble forest.
As it was a meeting, naturally, people from both sides needed to participate. Krast and Olson represented the Sons of the Forest.
On the Dark Angels' side, with Ravenwing Sammael and Deathwing Belial too gravely injured to participate, Azrael, Asmodai, and Ezekiel all attended the meeting.
"I need to know all the news about the Lion."
Azrael spoke, impatiently asking about the cause of the entire incident and the Lion's own news.
"It's like this—" Emrys was not surprised and recounted in detail his meeting with the Lion, the reason for pardoning the Fallen Angels later, and the formation of the expeditionary force to support the Dragon Forest world.
"So that's how it is." Azrael nodded, things were roughly as he had expected. He looked at Emrys, his tone inexplicably much lower.
"Then now, you should tell me, why did the Fallen Angels gain the Lion's forgiveness?"
"The reason is a bit complex," Emrys sighed, his gaze sweeping over the others before he finally explained in detail.
"Actually, what happened back then was like this"
After hearing the full story, even Supreme grandmaster Azrael almost had his brain fried, stammering, "You, you mean to say—that what happened back then was all the work of the Filth, and it wasn't the Fallen Angels who blew up Caliban?!"
"Nonsense!"
Krast sneered, cursing, "Caliban was our home too; we'd have to be insane to blow up our own home?!"
Bang!
The hot-tempered Asmodai glared at Krast.
"Fallen Angel, don't forget your place! Azrael is the Supreme grandmaster of the Dark Angels!"
"Heh, he's the Supreme grandmaster of the Dark Angels, what does that have to do with us Sons of the Forest?" Krast continued to sneer, completely unafraid of Asmodai's murderous gaze.
"Also, we are the Absolved Angels personally pardoned by the Lion, we are the Sons of the Forest, no longer the Fallen Angels burdened with sin. But you, Asmodai—you still call us Fallen Angels. Are you questioning the Lion's decision?"
"Once a Fallen Angel, always a Fallen Angel!" Asmodai also did not back down at all, rising in anger and placing a hand on the dagger at his waist.
"Even if the Lion pardoned your sins, who knows if you will betray the Emperor and the Lion again?!"
"You're full of it!!!"
Krast, who in his life hated nothing more than others questioning their loyalty, glared at Asmodai like ignited dynamite.
"I challenge you to a duel! You are slandering a knight's honor!"
"A duel? Come on!"
Asmodai was equally furious.
"I am the grandmaster of Repentance of the Dark Angels, do you think I'd be afraid of a Fallen Angel like you?!"
The outburst of these two also ignited the already mutually antagonistic Dark Angels and Sons of the Forest.
Now, it wasn't just these two.
Even the Dark Angels and Sons of the Forest who were still resting, all pulled out their bolters and chainswords, glaring at each other, as if a brawl was about to break out any second!
Although not long ago, the Sons of the Forest and the Dark Angels had fought side by side, that was because they shared a common enemy.
But between the Dark Angels and the Fallen Angels, grievances had long run deep; how could they be resolved with just a word or two?
This was understandable.
From the Dark Angels' perspective, even if the "Lion" truly pardoned these individuals, they were still 'Fallen Angels' to be scrutinized; after all, if there was one betrayal, there was no guarantee there wouldn't be a second.
From the 'Fallen Angels'' perspective, they were even more displeased; it wasn't them who betrayed the Lion and the Imperium. At most, they were coerced and purely took the blame, and after being hunted for so long, they inevitably harbored some resentment towards the Dark Angels.
Emrys sighed.
He had every reason to believe that if it weren't for Chaos as a common enemy, the Dark Angels would likely not even give them a chance to explain upon first meeting.
What Lion or no Lion, killing these Fallen Angels first was the standard operating procedure for the Dark Angels!
One must know that in the original timeline, the Dark Angels were so fanatical that to conceal the existence of the Fallen Angels, they even contemplated whether to kill the Primarch Roboute Guilliman. What else wouldn't they dare to do?
As for the Lion's orders?
Feigning compliance was far too easy.
Sorry, my hand slipped, go tell it to the bolter. We're all just trying to to live for the Imperium, that's all.
But words aside, they couldn't actually "want to fight, is that it?"
Suddenly, just as the atmosphere grew tense and these two groups were on the verge of ran, a cold voice, like ice water in summer, poured over their hearts.
Although Emrys was sitting and his tone seemed calm, in the depths of his eyes, a pure golden hue flowed like lava, silently radiating a terrifying and heart-pounding pressure.
"I'm giving you three seconds—"
He bared his white, neat teeth, his gaze, however, was exceptionally cold, passing over each of them in turn, and he said lightly.
"Whether you are Dark Angels or Sons of the Forest, immediately lay down your weapons. Any who dare to defy orders will be treated as heretics—killed without mercy!"
With a single sentence, the air suddenly froze.
But neither the Dark Angels nor the Sons of the Forest could ignore 'Emrys''s warning!
The reason was simple.
He, Merlin Emrys, was not only the First Guardian Knight and grandmaster of the Sons of the Forest personally appointed by the Lion, but also, not long ago, in their own sight, became the 'Emperor''s representative!
According to the regulations of the Imperial Administratum, the Ecclesiarchy, the Martian Mechanicum, and even the High Lords of Terra, Emrys was a veritable—'Living Saint'!
If a Living Saint declared someone a heretic, then they were a heretic.
No questioning was needed; even if that person was an Inquisitor, they would still be defined as a 'heretic'!
This was the Living Saint—no, to be precise, this was the Emperor's will manifested in the mortal world, the representative of the Emperor's power, the judgment of the Lord of Humanity!
To go against the Emperor's will?
Had the Inquisition lost its edge, or had the Custodes given you too much leeway?!
You could say that the Ecclesiarchy is corrupt.
You could also say that the Imperium of Man has become what it is today because these parasites of the Ecclesiarchy twisted and tampered with the Emperor's original intentions, completely erasing humanity's hope and severing its future.
But one thing is undeniable.
The existence of the Ecclesiarchy at least allows humanity to retain a glimmer of hope in this purgatory, which is filled with darkness and despair, and where war and death are the eternal backdrop.
Faith in the Emperor is also the only barrier many humans have against Warp corruption.
The Ecclesiarchy has many drawbacks, but everything has two sides, and it is precisely for this reason that the Regent did not abolish it.
By the same logic, in this Imperium of Man that champions extreme religious fervor, a being like Emrys, who has displayed miracles and been possessed by the Emperor, can almost be called a 'spokesperson for God' in terms of status alone; he is a 'Living Saint'!
In principle, they can disobey orders.
As the Emperor's Angels of Death, they can disregard 'Living Saints', especially the First Legion, the Dark Angels, who don't even give face to Guilliman, let alone their own Primarch.
But the problem is, the First Legion's "principles" now also side with Emrys.
If you truly believe that just the Living Saint and the Lion are enough to make the Lion's cubs submit, then you are too naive.
One needs a carrot and a stick.
To subdue the Lion's cubs, in addition to a stick, you need a stick + stick + stick!
This place was already in the Warp, which was more conducive to psykers, and under Emrys' pressing gaze, a terrifying torrent of gravity poured down like a collapsing sky!
Including the grandmaster, everyone could feel that terrifying gravitational torrent!
It was as if they were in a high-gravity environment; the surrounding ground cracked inch by inch, and even the towering trees and vegetation drooped down.
As the instigators of the opposition, Asmodai and Aphkar became the primary targets, directly kneeling on the ground, their power armor groaning with a metallic crunch under the suppression of this gravity.
It felt as if tens of thousands of tons of pressure were weighing down on them!
The raised muzzles of their guns dropped under the pressure, the air became incredibly viscous, even breathing was extremely difficult, and blood circulation was impeded, causing everyone's vision to turn blood-red, their hearts feeling as if they were tightly squeezed!
"This is no longer 'Itan-class'—" Ezekiel, the Chief Librarian, who was also under suppression, could more clearly feel that the pressure emanating from Emrys far exceeded the limit of an 'Itan-class' psyker.
He couldn't even break free.
This conjecture greatly shocked Ezekiel; he was an Epsilon-class psyker, and a being that could suppress him could only be—Delta or Gamma-class!
What are Delta and Gamma-class?
Extremely dangerous, with only a probability of one being born per billion people; once discovered, they must be given high attention, otherwise, if they erupt, even a 'Titan' would find it difficult to handle.
Ezekiel was a bit stunned.
Aren't psykers born that way? How can there be such a freak who can leap two levels from Itan-class to 'Delta' class in one go?
This guy wouldn't still be able to go higher, would he?
Ezekiel looked at Emrys with some worry, always feeling that he was like a ticking time bomb whose explosive power would grow larger and larger.
Having suppressed the entire Dark Angels and Sons of the Forest with his own power, Emrys calmly rose and walked in front of Asmodai and Aphkar, lowering his emotionless, icy gaze, with a hint of warning.
"Don't speak words that are not conducive to unity. If there's a next time—it won't be this simple, understand?"
"Understood."
"Under… —stood…"
Even the proud Asmodai had to lower his head; he wasn't completely foolish and knew that if he continued to be stubborn, Emrys would truly dare to twist his head off.
"Very good."
Emrys withdrew his gaze and sat back down, seemingly returning to his initial gentle demeanor.
"Now, we can continue our discussion, Lord Azrael."
"Alright…"
After the commotion just now, Azrael also re-evaluated Emrys' status in his heart, his tone carrying a hint of respect.
"Lord Emrys, since the Lion has already approved of them, this matter is closed. What we need most now is unity; we must gather all our strength to counter the complex and chaotic situation on Draconys world."
Currently, besides Chaos, even the 'Orks' have gotten involved on Draconys world, and it's none other than Ghazghkull Thraka, the terrifying Warlord who instigated the Third War for Armageddon. For the Dark Angels, this is simply the worst news!
If it continues to develop, this place will soon become a 'purgatory.' This is also the outcome Azrael least wants to see; once the situation escalates, their 'shameful history' that they tried so hard to conceal, including the blasphemous creation of Draconys world, will be exposed to the Imperium of Man!
"Now is not the time to consider these things."
Emrys sneered, a hint of anger on his face.
"I know what you are thinking, but the secret of the Dark Angels, and these dead brothers, and the situation of the entire Imperium of Man—which do you think is more important?"
Azrael fell silent.
Both were very important to the Dark Angels, making it difficult for him to choose.
"Secrets ultimately cannot be buried, and the power of the Dark Angels alone cannot solve this matter at all," Emrys said calmly.
"Moreover, before coming here, the Lion had already reached a secret agreement with the Blood Angels and Ultramarines; they will arrive here very soon."
These words were like an invisible heavy hammer falling on Azrael's chest; he opened his mouth weakly, but finally closed it dejectedly.
Yes, he wanted to conceal the secret, but the ultimate result was the entire Dark Angels Chapter, including its successor Chapters, falling into a Chaos trap.
As it stands, even the Lion has swallowed his pride and reached a secret agreement with the Ultramarines and Blood Angels; what more can he say?
"I—I understand." Azrael took a deep breath; regardless of the secret, as the grandmaster, what he needed to do now was save the Dark Angels and not make any more mistakes.
"What do you plan to do?"
"Do you even need to ask?"
Emrys' low voice, as if thunder was rolling in his throat, was extremely muffled.
"Of course, revenge! Revenge on Chaos, revenge on those heretics who have stained their hands with the blood of our brothers! Crush their bones, chop off their heads, send them back to purgatory, to atone for the Emperor and for the sons of Lion!"
When had he ever suffered such a great loss?
Khorne, is it? Blood God, is it? Butcher, is it?
daemon, is it? Daemon Primarch, is it? Daemon Prince, is it? All of you, just wait for me, don't even think about running!
In that initial wave, he was caught off guard and fell into Khorne's trap, suppressed by the Daemon Primarch Angron, the world Eaters, and the Khorne Daemon Legions, finding it difficult to even catch his breath, retreating step by step.
But now that he's had a chance to breathe, well, then it's a different story.
Allow me to introduce the next to appear: Merlin Emrys, the Imperial Blood Merchant Rogue Trader who roams the galaxy, the Commander of the Emrys Fleet, the Savior of Vigilus, the Guardian of the Blood Angels, the only remaining 'Prime' of the Transformers, the Lord of the Devourer Battleship, the Supreme Speaker of the United Holy Terra Council of Five Worlds, the Supreme Commander of a Million Holy Terra Auxiliary Forces, the Leader of the alien Creators, the Space Jockeys!
"If they want to fight, then let's fight!"
Emrys clenched his fists, a ferocious grin on his face, as if wrath ignited in his pupils, his cold, violent voice, like an unimaginable energy gathering.
"At worst, we'll shatter the entire Draconys world! At worst, I'll turn it into an apocalypse!"