Chapter 610

Seeing them made him want to beat them senseless.

Imotekh fell silent, unable to reproach Nazar and Zharang, the two overlords.

After all, even he had just inexplicably felt that same craving.

As if fate itself were using Imotekh's hand to fulfill the Wailer's misfortune.

This was utterly absurd, completely illogical—Imotekh could not comprehend it.

"Shall we order Nazar and Zharang to halt their turn?" Overlord Ogvalk asked.

Imotekh's expression darkened slightly; the drawback of the inertialess engine was precisely this—it was too fast, too swift for Imotekh to stop it before the turn had already begun.

If Imotekh now interrupted the turn, it would not stabilize the fleet's formation but instead cause chaos.

Moreover, both flanks had already begun turning; if Imotekh's central force remained still, the entire formation would collapse utterly.

The Storm King waved to signal Overlord Ogvalk not to interrupt the two vassal kingdoms' turns, then ordered his own direct-subject Sotek Kingdom fleet to begin turning as well.

Imotekh knew he had likely fallen into a human trap.

But what he first marveled at was not the humans' sophisticated tactical design.

For in Imotekh's view, this tactic was not sophisticated at all—it was merely gambling, betting that Imotekh's forces would truly pursue the Wailer.

What Imotekh truly marveled at was how unbelievably unlucky the Wailer was.

"Could this Wailer really be this unlucky?"

"A mere tiny warband has drawn the entire Storm King's kingdom plus two vassal kingdoms into pursuit?"

Imotekh muttered to himself.

And the humans seemed genuinely certain the Wailer would be this unlucky, would inevitably attract Imotekh's forces—couldn't they just drop all this feudal superstition and fight logically and rationally like decent beings?

Though direct combat had not yet begun, he had already found in the humans many of the same feelings he got fighting greenskins.

Absurd, utterly illogical, a string of bizarre coincidences.

It was utterly detestable!!

But Imotekh did not believe—could not believe—that his order would fall before those illogical things.

Hm?

At that moment, a roar of arc-light erupted beside Imotekh.

The continuity of reality was instantly torn open; a Webway gate appeared suddenly at the side of Imotekh's fleet.

From within the Webway, warship engines vented, transforming into countless spears thrusting into Imotekh's exposed flank.

The lead vessel was especially vast and exquisite—long and slender, gilded entirely, its prow shaped like wings, embedded with a massive crimson gem resembling a blood-tear hanging in the void.

Imotekh's transcendent logic swiftly confirmed the identity of this vessel.

The human Blood Angels flagship: the Glorious Queen-class battleship Red Tear.

The sensors of the Unrefusable Conqueror rapidly processed data, allowing Imotekh to see a figure standing atop the Red Tear's prow, in the void.

It was an Astartes clad in crimson power armor, its surface resembling the flayed hide of a muscular man, the ceramite carved into the pattern of vivid red muscle.

His hair, long and white streaked with gold, hung pale as the skin of a cave-dweller untouched by light; his eyes blazed with fierce psychic energy.

Librarian Mephiston of the Blood Angels.

Dante guarded Baal and handled affairs of state; Sanguinius had been assigned another role by Saint Doraemon; after all this back-and-forth, Mephiston had become the nominal overall commander of the Blood Angels forces.

Imotekh's face remained impassive; he understood how perilous his exposed flank was, but he had already prepared his response.

He would unleash the power of the enslaved gods.

Between Imotekh's flank and the Blood Angels fleet, the reality dimension twisted violently.