Chapter 428

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Protagonist:

Lin En

Lena

"Clean them up."

Atia tilted her head slightly, her voice flat as if speaking of a trivial matter.

She waved her staff lightly, and the crystal at its top erupted with a pale blue halo.

The nine massive rifts at the domain's edge instantly blazed to their utmost brilliance.

The first to emerge from the rifts were nine Thousand Sons Sorcerers clad in blue-gold power armor.

Their frames were somewhat lean; their helmet style shared the same lineage as Atia's, only the number of eye patterns on their cloaks decreased in sequence, and their staves were of simpler make.

The nine each took position at nine separate bearings, together forming a complete sorcerous array.

Close behind them came ninety-nine Red Word Warriors.

They marched out of the rifts in perfect lockstep, the sound of their power armor colliding merging into a single dull rhythm, like drumbeats striking the human heart.

Unlike ordinary Chaos Space Marines, no flesh spilled from the seams of their armor, no breath rose or fell, not even the most basic vital signs existed.

In the eye slits of their helmets, only pale blue soul-fire burned quietly.

The curse of the Red Word sorcery had long since utterly destroyed their bodies.

Their souls were forever imprisoned within the power armor, stripped of self, stripped of perception, leaving only the purest combat instinct and absolute obedience to the sorcerers' commands.

They were living undead, war machines bound by sorcery.

As long as the sorcerer commanding them still lived, even if their armor was utterly shattered, their souls could be recalled anew, poured into fresh plate, and thrown once more into the battlefield.

Undying, unceasing.

And behind the Red Word Warriors' formation, nine even more massive figures slowly stepped forth.

Scarab Terminators.

Heavy Terminator armor was engraved with Scarab ornamentation, broad shoulder pauldrons, twin arms mounting sorcerous weapons of staggering power.

They were the elite melee units of the Thousand Sons Legion; within every suit of Terminator armor was imprisoned the soul of a former Legion veteran.

Compared to ordinary Red Word Warriors, they were stronger, tougher, and deadlier.

Ninety-nine Red Word Warriors, nine Scarab Terminators, nine leading sorcerers.

This force was enough to crush an entire Imperial Defense Legion.

Yet this was not all.

From the depths of the nine rifts came rising and falling shrieks and roars.

Pink Horrors drifted out in swarms, chittering and cackling, arcane flames dancing at their fingertips.

Flamers streaked through the air trailing burning wakes, the air warping and distorting wherever they passed.

Screamers of Tzeentch rode disc flyers screaming out, their eerie laughter piercing the meninges with pain.

On the ground, dense throngs of Chaos cultists surged out along the rifts.

They wore motley garb, faces painted with the Lord of Change's runes, fanatical light flashing in their eyes, hands gripping weapons ranging from lasguns to rust-stained short blades.

They were all vassal forces enslaved by the Thousand Sons from the Warp or corrupted planets.

Daemons and cultists mingled together, like two tides of differing colors, pouring ceaselessly from the nine rifts.

Numbers grew and grew, soon filling half the Warp domain, stretching beyond sight.

This was Atia's Supreme Servant Corps.

It was the entirety of the force she had brought this time to "clear away the trash."

Outside the domain, Colonel William watched the enemy host ceaselessly pouring from the rifts, veins bulging on his forehead.

He had seen Green Skin tides, seen Nurgle's plague walking dead, yet never seen a Chaos army so dense, so distinctly layered.

Front rank: fearless cultist fodder and Chaos Spawn; middle: undying Red Word Warriors; rear: unfathomable sorcerers; above: circling daemon units.

This was a war.

A war that, if not careful, could bury an entire Hive City.

"All units," Colonel William drew a deep breath, pressed the vox key, his voice steady as if conducting a routine exercise.

"When targets enter range, free fire."

"For the Emperor."

"For Brevis."

On the position, every soldier gripped their weapons simultaneously.

Cannon mouths rose slowly, explosive shells loaded, holy flame ignited.

No one spoke, yet every pair of eyes said the same thing.

Fight to the death, no retreat.

The Warp domain's edge writhed ceaselessly, gnawing bit by bit at the boundary of the real world.

The nine rifts exhaled polychromatic Chaos energy, splashing the acrid stench of sulfur and sorcery across the industrial districts of Middle City.

Colonel William stared at the writhing figures deep in the domain, until the first wave of charging enemy stepped out of the rifts' shadow, only then did he finally see the true face of this servant corps.

Those surging in the foremost rank were not ragged Bottom City fanatics, but a band of savage warriors draped in heavy beast-skin armor, wielding rune battle axes and two-handed hammers.

They averaged over two meters in height, exposed skin a ghastly white, muscles knotted like rock.

Faces etched with dense Chaos tattoos, pale blue sorcerous witch-fire dancing in their eye sockets.

"Norsakans..." Bishop Jansen uttered the name in a low voice, his heart sinking. He had seen records of this barbarian tribe in the Ministry of War's files.

It was very obscure knowledge, but he still remembered this information.

Norsaka Planet was a savage world at the edge of the Menglong Star Domain, where humans had evolved physiques and ferocity far beyond ordinary people under extreme environments.

Unlike most human planets that worshipped the Emperor.

Norsakans worshipped the Chaos Four Gods generation after generation, and tribal slaughter never ceased.

Only the most ferocious warrior of each tribe was qualified to be recruited by the passing Thousand Sons Warband, becoming the personal attendant of the sorcerers.

These people were not seduced commoners, but born Butchers, war machines raised in the power of Chaos.

Among them, more than ten warriors wearing Black Feather Capes and Bone Helmets had terrifying auras, with arcane light flames coiling around their axe blades.

They were Norsaka Champions, Yi Su Chaos Warriors capable of directly fighting Space Marines.

Walking side by side with them were twisted Chaos Eggs.

These mindless monsters should have been the synonym of chaos, but under the Servitor Mark and the control of the sorcerers at the rear.

They actually walked steadily at the very front of the battle line, their huge Green Skin Bodies like moving flesh shields, exactly covering the Norsca Warriors behind them.

Their bodies constantly writhed and deformed, sometimes swelling with thick Keratin Layers, sometimes splitting out extra joints, stepping with heavy strides in step-by-step pressure.

Even more heart-pounding was the Blue Halo enveloping the entire army.

It was a Deflection Domain woven by Yi Su witchcraft.

Invisible energy wrapped around every unit like flowing water, causing remote trajectories to deviate strangely.

"All fire, volley!" William fiercely swung down his arm, and all cannons on the position roared simultaneously.

High-explosive Shells trailing tail flames smashed into the charging ranks, Heat Melt Rays tore through the air, and Purification Shells poured down like a rainstorm.

But the expected flying flesh and blood did not appear; most shells deviated from their orbits when touching that Blue Halo.

Either flying past the bodies of the Chaos Eggs, or detonating prematurely in midair.

The few shells that hit smashed into the bloated bodies of the Chaos Eggs, blasting open Blood Mist, revealing twisted bones and organs beneath.

But before the wounds could expand, several Norsaka sorcerers at the rear of the team raised their Bone Staffs.

Chanting obscure incantations, pale green Healing Light Beams fell one after another onto the injured Chaos Eggs.

Wounds that could blast ordinary humans into pieces actually wriggled and healed at a visible speed, new flesh buds rolled over to cover the wound surfaces, and even severed joints grew back.

"Damn it! They have Spirit Energy Users!" the frontline artillerymen roared as they reloaded, but Cold Sweat had already seeped from their foreheads.

The firepower advantage was gone.

The defending troops were already at an absolute disadvantage in numbers, relying entirely on heavy firepower and terrain to hold out; now remote firepower had been reduced by more than half by the domain.

The only meat shield Chaos Eggs that could be hit could still be continuously healed; with this gain and that loss, the pressure on the position instantly multiplied several times.