Chapter 426

·

·

·

Protagonist:

Lin En

Lena

Thirty seconds, very short, yet feeling as long as a century.

Everyone looked up, gazing toward the night sky, waiting for that beam of judgment light that could purify everything.

Just a few seconds before the light spear was about to fall, a sudden change occurred.

From the direction of the rifts of the nine factories, nine colorful, translucent energy ribbons rose simultaneously.

The ribbons, like glowing rivers, converged toward the massive tumor at the center.

Bishop Jansen saw clearly that within those ribbons surged countless tiny points of light, each speck a soul that had been devoured.

There were civilians', soldiers', Chaos believers', and even mutants' remnants.

Tens of thousands of souls were refined, compressed, transformed into the purest Warp energy, and poured wholesale into the tumor's core.

This was the ritual's true purpose; all life within the nine factories had been sacrifices from the very beginning.

Whether resisting or submitting, living or dead, all were merely nutrients prepared for this tumor.

The tumor, infused with souls, instantly swelled a full circle, its volume nearly doubling.

The blood vessels on its surface lit up with eerie, colorful light; the myriad souls emitted agonized screams, forming a distorted and terrifying energy fluctuation.

At that moment, a golden orbital light spear tore through the night sky, carrying world-destroying might, and slammed precisely onto the top of the tumor.

Everyone held their breath.

But the anticipated earth-shattering explosion did not happen.

The tumor's outermost membrane suddenly unfurled slowly like a flower bud, layers of flesh petals spreading outward to reveal an unfathomably deep core at the center.

An invisible energy fluctuation spread from the flower's heart, forming an unseen barrier that forcibly pinned down that light spear capable of melting through mountain ranges.

Time seemed to freeze at this moment.

The azure high-energy beam hovered above the flower of flesh, melting away inch by inch, like ice and snow meeting raging fire.

The massive energy was devoured and dissolved bit by bit by the flower of flesh; not even a shred of residual ripple managed to splash out.

In mere seconds, that orbital light spear capable of destroying a Titan God Machine vanished without a trace, as if it had never appeared.

Immediately after, an even stronger energy fluctuation swept out from the flower of flesh.

With the tumor as the center, the area within a radius of several kilometers was instantly pulled into a bizarre domain.

The surrounding factories and chimneys disappeared, replaced by a vast star sea backdrop.

The pitch-black sky curtain was dotted with countless distorted stars; nine massive vortex rifts were evenly distributed at the domain's edge, like nine eyes gazing upon reality.

External cannon fire, holy flames, all attacks struck the domain's edge and sank like stones into the sea, unable to stir even a trace of a ripple.

This Warp domain was like an independent small world, completely severing contact between inside and outside.

Bishop Jansen stepped back, his hand gripping the scepter trembling slightly.

He knew things had completely spiraled out of control.

Just as everyone's hearts trembled in shock, deep within that giant flower of flesh at the domain's center, the core rift slowly widened.

A tall figure stepped out from within the rift.

He wore power armor gleaming with a ghostly blue luster, the armor etched with distorted Tzeentch runes, primarily blue with gold accents.

The beetle-like horn atop the helmet pierced the void; a faint sorcerous aura coiled around his whole body.

On either side of the power backpack on his back were a pair of extended staff decorations; the eyes beneath the helmet were hollow and vacant, or rather, no gaze could be felt at all.

Bishop Jansen stared dead at that figure, his throat tightening.

His rich knowledge of Imperial history made him almost blurt out a term:

"Sons of a Thousand Wounds."

This is a derogatory title, the Imperium's contemptuous name for the Thousand Sons Legion who swore allegiance to Tzeentch.

However, not a single Imperial general would want to face these traitors directly.

The surrounding Iron Guard soldiers and Combat Nuns clearly had not yet grasped the weight of this name.

But as the most senior clergy of the Middle City Diocese, Jansen understood better than them what this force signified.

They were the Fifteenth Legion that betrayed the Emperor during the Horus Heresy, the Wizard Legion under the Crimson Magnus, one of the most dangerous entries in the Imperial Military Department's Heretic archives.

Yet that was all.

The Imperium's understanding of this traitor legion was pitifully scarce.

Since the Heresy, the Thousand Sons had hidden in the depths of the Warp, rarely appearing on the front battlefield.

They were more like schemers hiding behind a curtain, weaving fate, altering reality, using cunning sorcery and far-reaching schemes to topple planet after planet.

They never deigned to charge howling with machetes like the World Eaters.

Regarding their internal structure, the forbidden arts they mastered, their power sources and weaknesses, the vast majority of files contained only vague records of fragmented phrases.

Even a veteran Bishop like Jansen, who had long dealt with the Chaos Great Enemies, possessed only a handful of actionable intelligence.

But he knew the core of this legion was sorcerers.

Countless tragic battle examples had proven the same thing: the combat power of Thousand Sons forces was entirely sustained by the Chaos Sorcerers commanding them.

As long as the leading sorcerer could be slain, the warriors under their command would suffer a drastic drop in strength, even falling directly into stagnation.

As for deeper secrets, such as the rumored Rubric sorcery that caused the entire legion to utterly lose their flesh and blood.

And the nine major cults they split into due to Tzeentch's nine unique aspects.

The Imperial High Level knew nothing, and Jensen had never come into contact with the relevant volumes.

"All units attention," Bishop Jansen's voice traveled through the communication channel to every soldier's tactical helmet, and also synchronized to Isud's receiving end at the Governor's Mansion.

"The enemy is the Sons of a Thousand Wounds Chaos Space Marines, belonging to the Fifteenth Traitor Legion, core combat power is Chaos Wizards."

"Tactical priority highest target: kill enemy wizard units."

"As long as the wizards fall, enemy overall combat power will see a cliff-like drop."

His voice was steady and powerful, not a trace of panic could be heard, but only the palm pressed against the scepter knew that it was already soaked with cold sweat.

The Thousand Sons Legion personally took the field.

This was absolutely not an ordinary Chaos Cult rebellion.

The Wizard Legion that previously only hid behind the scenes stirring wind and cloud, now tore open all disguises, directly stepping into the Reality Universe.

This meant Brevis's value far exceeded all of their estimates.

The seriousness of the matter had already broken through the scope of local rebellion, rising to a level sufficient to shake the survival of the entire star system.

"Colonel William," Jensen turned his head, looking at the Iron Guard Regiment Commander beside him with a grave expression.

"Immediately pass the order down, all outer guard forces contract toward the center, rely on street districts to construct three defensive lines."

"Notify all Middle City parishes, all clergy enter combat readiness, holy relics, holy oil all activated, all usable combat power all used."

He paused, gaze returning to that area shrouded by the Warp Domain, tone calm yet carrying determination:

"I will lead all Combat Pastors and Sisters to stay at the very front."

"We guard here, drag it out as long as we can."

"For the Governor's Mansion, for the Noble Council, for all of Brevis, strive for time to arrange full domain defense."

Colonel William's whole body shook, he fiercely turned his head to look at the Bishop.

Guard here?

Opposite were the Sons of a Thousand Wounds, and that Warp Domain able to withstand orbital light spears, and the unending Chaos Army.

Staying at the very front, no different from sending oneself to death.

But he looked at Bishop Jensen's graying sideburns, looked at the determination in the other's eyes without the slightest thought of retreat, and the dissuasion that reached his mouth was swallowed back down.

He knew, Middle City was Brevis's industrial heart, tens of millions of population gathered here.

Once this gap was torn open, the Chaos Army spreading along the streets, all of Middle City would fall into Hell within a few hours.

They retreat one step, behind them hundreds of millions more innocent civilians would die.

"Understood." Colonel William took a deep breath, raised his hand and struck his chest armor, voice hoarse yet resounding.

"Iron Guard Sixth Regiment, all members hold position."

"Life and death together with the position!"

The order passed down, on the position not the slightest commotion appeared.

Iron Guard soldiers erecting heavy cannons didn't stop their hand movements, Combat Nuns checking bomb guns silently pressed the last purification bullet into magazines.

Pastors chanting prayers voices grew even more loud.

No one asked "can we survive", no one complained about the cruelty of the order.

They were the Emperor's warriors, Brevis's shield.

Behind them was the homeland, already no road to retreat.