Chapter 440

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Protagonist:

Lin En

Lena

Yet the two Death Guard Veterans' movements were more than thirty percent slower than in their prime.

The Untouchable Field was like a cold filter, draining away every blessing dependent on the Warp.

Nurgle's Plague Power had once been their sturdiest armor and sharpest weapon; now suddenly stripped away, their bodies—already riddled with holes by the Plague—immediately showed signs of exhaustion.

The rusted Power Armor lost the enhancement of Flesh Growth, and the rotting flesh in the gaps of the armor plates stopped writhing.

The swollen tissue that once absorbed impacts quickly shriveled, leaving only the heavy metal shell grinding against already necrotic bones.

The warrior on the left was named Balo, once an Assault trooper of the Seventh Company, who during the Great Crusade had hacked through the Green Skin defensive line with a Power Axe.

Yet now the arm wielding his axe trembled slightly; his rotting tendons could not withstand the recoil of a full-power chop, and the axe blade deviated by several millimeters.

It scraped past Phelps's Shoulder Armor, sending up only a string of fine sparks.

The warrior on the right was named Kelun, once a siege veteran who had participated in countless assaults against Xenos.

Yet the Power Hammer he swung lacked force, and his steps showed a visible stagger.

His left leg had been smashed during the Horus Heresy, and only Nurgle's granulation tissue had kept him walking.

Now that the Plague Power had receded, his necrotic leg bone could not support the heavy Power Armor.

Phelps merely twisted his waist and easily dodged the two men's pincer attack.

The rusted Warhammer spun half a circle in the air; the hammer handle slammed hard into Balo's waist with a dull thud, and the latter staggered back several steps, leaning against the Wall to barely steady himself.

"Calm down, Balo, Kelun." Phelps's voice was still hoarse, but carried a near-cruel calm.

He raised his Warhammer, the hammer face turned toward his two former comrades.

"Ten thousand years have passed; the Great Crusade ended long ago, the Pseudo-Emperor sits on the Golden Throne as a corpse, and we cannot go back."

"Bullshit!" Kelun roared, spraying turbid saliva.

"We are the Fourteenth Legion! We are the Emperor's Death Guard! Not Nurgle's disgusting maggots!"

"The Emperor's Death Guard?" Phelps chuckled softly, the Corruption Flesh in his chest cavity gurgling.

"Look down at yourself, look at this oozing rotting flesh, look at these rusted armor plates grown together with flesh and blood."

"Do you think you still deserve to be called Death Guard?"

He stepped forward, the Warhammer lightly tapping the Ground, emitting a muffled sound:

"Captain Typhus merely gave us a choice."

"Either rot painfully in the Plague and die with the whole Legion in the Istvaan mud, or accept the Father's grace, live on, and become stronger."

"We chose to live on—is that wrong?"

"What is wrong is this Empire that abandoned us, and that Emperor high above who never once looked at us properly."

"Shut up!" Balo suddenly straightened, raised his axe again and charged, the axe blade carrying a shrill wind sound.

"You may fall, but you cannot tarnish the Legion's glory!"

The two became entangled once more.

Axe shadows and hammer shadows crossed, the crisp sound of metal collision ringing out unceasingly in the spacious corridor.

Yet anyone could see that Balo and Kelun were already spent.

Their combat techniques remained, the killing instinct carved into their bones for ten thousand years remained, but their decaying bodies could not support this skill.

Every block made their bones groan under the strain, every charge brought a staggering opening.

Phelps, however, handled it with ease.

He was one who had actively embraced Nurgle, and the Plague Power had long been deeply bound to his soul.

The Untouchable Field could suppress the spread of disease and Flesh Growth, but could not erase the combat experience carved into his genes, nor take away his method of exerting force adapted to his corrupted body.

He did not even need to use Plague abilities; relying solely on consummate combat skill, he steadily suppressed the two comrades.

While blocking, he continued to persuade them slowly, as if luring lost lambs:

"Accept reality, Balo."

"Even if you are clear-headed now, what can you do? Your body has long rotted through, your intestines stink in your belly, your lungs are full of the Father's spores."

"Without the Plague Power to support you, you cannot even stand steadily."

"Come back with me; once we deal with these Mortals, I will pray to the Father to erase your unpleasant memories."

"We are still brothers, still the Father's mortal Apostles—come, let us turn the whole Warship into the Father's garden."

"Garden?" Kelun coughed up a mouthful of black blood, laughing shrilly.

"Turning living people into rotting Waa'gh, turning steel into maggot-infested rotting flesh—is this your garden?"

"Phelps, you've long gone mad."

On the other side of the corridor, Dominic quietly watched this sudden internal strife, his fingers gripping the sword tightening slightly.

At first he was bewildered.

Twenty-two fearsome Death Guard had just charged in, and he had prepared for a fight to the death.

Yet the moment they stepped into the Silent Sisters' Untouchable Domain, they first froze collectively, then nineteen committed suicide on the spot, and the remaining three started fighting among themselves.

This turn of events—he had neither seen nor heard of such a thing.

But after all, he was a battle-hardened Major General; after a few seconds of astonishment, he immediately grasped the key.

It was the Silent Sisters.

It was the Untouchable's anti-Warp force field, stripping the Chaos Blessings from these traitors and briefly clearing the godhood that the Plague had clouded for ten thousand years.

Dominic's heart pounded fiercely.

A once-in-a-thousand-years chance!

This was absolutely a once-in-a-thousand-years opportunity!

Twenty-two Death Guard, if they charged at full strength, he with the Tian Shi Squad could only barely hold them off, and whether they could defend the Temple was uncertain.

But now, nineteen had committed suicide, the remaining three were fighting among themselves, two were in terrible condition, and only Phelps still had combat capability.

This was a godsend battle opportunity bestowed by the God Emperor!

He hesitated not at all, turning his head to speak in an extremely low voice to the Silent Sisters Captain beside him:

"You stay in place, maintain the force field, do not retreat a single step."

Seven Sisters nodded slightly, their expressions unreadable beneath half-covered faces, but the pale silver force fields around them were steady as rock.

Like a pool of frozen ice water, they firmly suppressed the Warp Energy within dozens of meters.

Dominic took a deep breath, and the humming of his Power Sword's force field suddenly rose sharply.

He raised his hand and made a tactical gesture; the Six Imperial Fists Terminators immediately understood, fanning out in a semicircle, stepping with heavy and rhythmic strides, flanking from Ce Yu.

Seven suits of pure white master-crafted Terminator Armour, each step causing the metal deck to emit a dull tremor.

The muzzles of the Twin-linked Boltguns flashed fire simultaneously, not sweeping fire but precise single shots, all aimed at Phelps's joints, Target Lens, and power pipelines—those weak points.

The moment the gunshots rang out, Phelps's movement suddenly stalled.

He only concerned himself with dealing with two colleagues, completely disregarding the Mortals behind him.

In his view, those Mortals in Terminator Armour were merely ants slightly more durable than usual.

After dealing with the two traitors, he would slowly maneuver around them.

But he forgot that within the Untouchable Field, he had no Plague shield, no flesh regeneration, no Warp empowerment.

Mortal bombs could just as easily pierce his Power Armor.

"Clang clang clang!"

Several bombs precisely struck his knee joints and shoulder armor interfaces, the rusted armor plates blasted open with several notches.

Though they failed to penetrate the inner armor, they did cause his movement to become extremely briefly rigid.

Just this instant.

Balo and Kelun's eyes flashed, both exerting force simultaneously, an axe and a hammer sealing off Phelps's left and right dodging space.

And Dominic, taking advantage of this brief rigidity, had the thruster under his feet fiercely spray out a pale blue flame stream.

His whole body turned into a white lightning bolt, charging straight at Phelps's front.

The force field radiance of his Power Sword surged to the extreme, blue-white electric arcs leaping along the sword blade, emitting a piercing hum.

"Traitor! Die!"

Phelps's pupils suddenly contracted.

He wanted to swing his hammer to block, but Balo and Kelun held him fast on left and right, and two more bombs struck his waist, slowing his movement by half a beat.

He could only desperately turn his head, trying to take the sword head-on with his shoulder armor.

But Dominic's sword had been prepared for a long time, expending all his strength.

"Sss!"

The sharp Power Sword easily cut through the rusted shoulder armor, tore open the swollen corrupt flesh below, and fiercely slashed in through the gap at the side of his neck.

The crisp sound of shattering bone mixed with the sound of splashing Corruption Flesh, especially clear in the narrow corridor.

A head covered in rust and abscesses flew high into the air, spun several times, and heavily smashed onto the metal deck, rolling several meters away.