Chapter 567: Clang Clang Clang!!! The Earth-Destroying Bomb!!

+Repent! +

+Do not continue to betray the blood of Saint Guilliman! +

+Everything the Red Angel says is a lie! +

+How can you so betray the name of the Ninth Battle Company of the Holy Blood Angels? +

Koor Regional Military Commissioner Mor awoke from a blood-soaked bed. The commander of the Crimson Angels Battle Company clutched his head, trying to drive away those fragmented voices at his ear.

Recently, the warriors of their Crimson Angels Battle Company had often been hearing this voice.

The voice claimed to be Melos, the apothecary of the Holy Blood Angels Legion over the past ten thousand years. It claimed that the Crimson Angels' current object of worship, Saint Guilliman, was actually a daemon called the Red Angel. It claimed that everything the Crimson Angels did was a betrayal of the blood of Saint Guilliman.

But Saint Guilliman told the Crimson Angels: this must be Tzeentch's shameless conspiracy!

Yes, their Crimson Angels were the purest progeny of Saint Guilliman.

They were born into the Ninth Company of the Ninth Legion, and Corynth was the ninth planet of their star system.

The Ninth Legion, the Ninth Company, the Ninth Son, the Ninth Planet, the Ninth Blood — could there be purer progeny of Saint Guilliman than the Crimson Angels?

Saint Guilliman chose to be reborn on Corynth rather than on Baal — was that not proof of their purity?

They were the true progeny of Saint Guilliman, walking the path of Saint Guilliman and carrying out the holy blood.

Mor struggled up from the blood-reddened bed. His foot crushed the skull of a mortal who had died during the night's blood-drinking; sticky blood, brains, and bone fragments smeared together beneath his sole.

Mor furrowed his brow slightly. Where were his servants? They hadn't even come to clean up the remains of these blood-vessels.

Then, Mor suddenly recalled that during last night's blood-drinking, he had accidentally twisted his servant's head off, and had drunk his blood by gnawing at the spurting stump of his neck.

Mor shook his head. Recently, the rate at which the company's servants were being lost had been growing faster and faster.

The secondary reason was that the company's cultivators would, when they got worked up, accidentally eat the servants as well.

The main reason was that the rate of replenishing servants was growing slower and slower. Many mortals were unwilling to accept the company's conscription, and were even hiding from it.

Truly a pack of ungrateful mortals — should serving the angels not be their glory?

Had they forgotten who protected them? Forgotten who kept them safe from the harm of Chaos and the xenos?

Truly a pack of shameless, ungrateful bastards. They only had to contribute blood, while the Crimson Angels had far more to consider.

Mor walked to a corner of the room and stood before an ornately decorated mirror.

He reached out and wiped away the bloodstains on the mirror, looking at the face reflected within.

It was a grey, twisted face — no lips, fangs thrusting out from exposed, withered gums; no eyelids, bloodshot eyeballs bulging from their sockets; high cheekbones, a long, narrow visage, grey-black skin, ears sharp and jutting into the air — like an ugly humanoid bat.

Mor was startled by the sight in the mirror and nearly fell to the ground.

Fortunately, in the blink of an eye — Zha Yan De Gong — the reflection in the mirror returned to normal. His face had become that beautiful, pale visage once more, hidden beneath golden hair, exactly like Saint Guilliman's beautiful countenance.

This was yet another powerful proof of their purity.

Mor admired his own face with considerable self-satisfaction.

But suddenly, a hallucination rose before his eyes again. He seemed to see the figure of the former company commander, Chawd.

He saw Chawd, at the moment of his death, gripping his hand tightly, eyes wide, saying to Mor in terror:

"A lie."

"Everything is a lie."

"We have fallen."

"The Rite of Atonement is a lie."

"Atone, for my mistake."

Mor hurriedly shook his head. This must be another hallucination woven by Tzeentch.

He clearly remembered what Chawd had said when, on the brink of death, he entrusted the Crimson Angels Battle Company to him.

He had said, plainly:

"Purity."

"Everything is for purity."