Chapter 419: Warhammer: What Do You Mean You Conquered the Zerg

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Protagonist:

Lin En

Lena

Middle City Qu, Third Soldier Source Temporary Assembly Point.

Here originally were several abandoned mechanical processing factories, temporarily converted into an isolation camp for conscripted soldier sources.

In several huge factories lived over a million eligible youths, with Vanguard Army guard units patrolling day and night around them, heavy machine guns mounted at the doorway, the vigilance not lax.

Night had deepened, the factory was silent, most people had fallen into deep sleep, only the footsteps of patrolling guards echoed in the corridor.

Mutation, without warning, broke out.

In the northwest corner barracks, a young soldier lying in bed suddenly opened his eyes.

In the depths of his pupils, a point of ghostly blue light rapidly expanded, finally occupying the entire eye socket.

He sat up soundlessly, a strange smile curling at his mouth corner.

Immediately after, one person after another rose; in the barracks, more and more soldier sources opened their eyes, all flashing the same Chaos Blue Light in their eyes.

Not only the isolated personnel, even in the guard unit, nearly half the soldiers' gazes quietly changed.

"Who?!" The guard at the end of the corridor heard the movement, just raising his laser gun to turn around, when his neck was tightly gripped by a cold hand.

The "companion" before him wore a strange smile, the dagger in his hand unhesitatingly piercing his heart.

"Chaos Above All."

A low chanting voice sounded in the darkness.

One post after another was silently removed.

The corrupted guards and soldier sources, like a well-trained army, wielding weapons, orderly cleaned up the remaining resistance forces.

Someone tried to resist, but was swarmed by far more mutants than himself, stabbed to death with countless blades.

The shrieks lasted only a few minutes before completely subsiding.

The entire factory completely fell into the hands of Chaos Believers.

They did not stop.

The believers dragged corpses, piling all the bodies of slain guards, civilians, and resisters onto the open space at the very center of the factory.

Uniformly flayed, decomposed, reconstructed.

Flesh, bones, organs stacked layer upon layer, soon piled into a small hill.

Several leading warlocks stood beside the hill of corpses, slashing their palms with daggers, smearing blood carrying Chaos power onto every part of the corpse pile.

Obscure incantations echoed in the factory, ghostly blue runes slowly lighting up along the contours of the corpse pile.

A crude yet blasphemous Blood Altar was rapidly forming, taking living lives as sacrifices.

The same scene was simultaneously staged in the nine soldier source camps of Middle City Qu.

Bloody, dark, silent.

In Factory No. 8 at the northwest corner, on the innermost bunk bed, a young Tech-Adept named Kail suddenly opened his eyes.

He should have fallen into deep sleep in fatigue like over a million other conscripted youths, waiting for the next day's body check and identity verification.

But at this moment, there was not a trace of sleepiness in his pupils; a point of ghostly blue light rose from the depths of his eyes, like two balls of jumping ghost fire, soon spreading to the entire whites of his eyes.

He made no sound, sitting up soundlessly, stepping barefoot onto the cold concrete floor.

The bunkmate sleeping above Kail was awakened by the movement, rubbing his eyes and poking his head out:

"Muttering what in the middle of the night? Still letting people……"

Halfway through speaking, he froze in place.

By the faint streetlight filtering in from outside the window, he clearly saw over a dozen people on the open space in the center of the factory chanting around a small hill piled from corpses.

He recognized those corpses: guards who had patrolled the corridor half an hour ago, companions who had received nutrient paste with him during the day.

Their chests were cut open, ribs folded outward like a pair of deformed wings, dark brown blood winding along the cracks in the ground, drawing distorted runes.

Several people draped in Deep Blue Cloaks stood near the hill of corpses, daggers in their hands still dripping blood, crystals atop their staffs emitting a heart-pounding Ghost Light.

"You, what are you doing!"

The young man was scared cold all over, tumbling and crawling off the bunk, his voice changing tone from fear.

His shout woke more people: some rubbing their eyes, some cursing, some sitting up blankly……

Over a hundred gazes neatly turned toward the Blood Altar at the center of the factory.

But they only glanced once, and the nightmare descended.

No roars, no pouncing and killing, not even did the believers turn to look back.

The blasphemous energy of the Warp, as the ritual was held, was changing everything around.

The few bolder youths in the front row who had gathered close were the first to react.

They first clutched their heads with painful groans, then black-red blood flowed from their seven orifices; under their skin, as if mice were madly scurrying, bulging one winding lump after another.

The one with the weakest endurance had his head "Bang!" explode on the spot.

No blood plasma splattered; gray-white brain matter mixed with tentacles drilled out from the neck cavity.

Over a dozen finger-thick white flesh tendrils waved wildly in midair, blood-stained bone fragments clattering to the ground.

His body swayed, not only did he not fall, but more tentacles covered in suckers grew from the broken neck.

Sucker-like flesh feet sprouted beneath his feet, as he swayed and lunged toward the nearest crowd.

"Monster, monster!" Screams instantly exploded.

But panic lasted only seconds before being replaced by even more terrifying mutation.

More people began to twist and deform.

Someone's arm stretched wildly, skin splitting to reveal proliferating bony organs inside.

Someone's body swelled into a bloated mass of flesh, its surface covered in pus-oozing sores, emitting inhuman roars from its mouth.

Others, completely out of their minds, roared as they threw themselves onto the pile of corpses on the ground, bones crackling, flesh and corpses fusing wildly.

In just over ten seconds, they swelled into chaos eggs three or four meters tall.

Sticky tentacles, distorted mouthparts, randomly waving fleshy giant claws.

These newly born monsters roared as they charged into the dense crowd; a sweep of their claws sent blood flying, and tentacles that wrapped around a person tore them in half directly.

The workshop descended into complete chaos.

Some ran desperately for the doorway, some trembled under the bed, some wielded stools and iron bars trying to resist, only to have half their heads bitten off by a chaos egg that pounced on them the next second.

But more people were slowly losing themselves under the erosion of the Warp Whisper.

They crouched on the ground clutching their heads, repeating syllables no one could understand, their eyes gradually turning vacant, their skin taking on an unnatural bluish tint.

No one knew whether they would regain their senses the next second or completely mutate into new monsters.

And more despairing than the monsters was the enclosed space.

At the moment the ritual fully erupted, a faint blue witchcraft barrier spread along the workshop's walls, ceiling, and ground.

The originally heavy alloy door became even harder, its surface showing distorted runes.

Several youths who rammed the door together broke their arms, but the door only trembled slightly, not even leaving a dent.

The walls became as hard as if cast from orichalcum; ordinary steel pipes and pry bars striking them left only a white mark.

Communication devices, signal transmitters, and emergency rescue devices all failed, leaving only dense snowflake noise on the screens.

Sound was sealed inside the workshop.

Those inside shouted their throats raw, but the patrolling guards outside heard not a sound.

The barrier was like an airtight great coffin, trapping tens of millions of conscripted soldier sources and the spreading chaos corruption together within the Nine Factories.

No one would come to save them, at least not within two hours.

Because the previous round of inspection had just ended, and the next round of patrol was two hours later.