Chapter 441: Warhammer: What Do You Mean You Conquered the Tyranids

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Protagonist:

Lin En

Lena

Phelps's headless body froze in place, the warhammer in his hand clattering to the ground.

Immediately, a heart-stopping swelling sound came from his chest cavity.

"Careful! He's going to explode!"

Dominic's expression changed, and he immediately drew back, raising his arm to shield his face with his shoulder armor.

The six Imperial Fists Terminators simultaneously unfolded their shield stances, forming a solid shield wall.

"Boom!!"

A muffled explosion sound rang out.

Phelps's body, like a balloon filled with corruption flesh, burst open from within.

Dark green pus, rusted armor plates, and rotting flesh fragments flew in all directions, carrying a pungent stench, surging toward the surroundings.

Normally, these flesh and blood carrying the Nurgle Plague would cause mortals to rot and die within minutes upon contact, and even power armor would be quickly corroded.

But this time was different.

All the splashing flesh and pus, the moment they touched the edge of the silver Untouchable Field, the warp plague energy contained within melted away like ice and snow meeting the sun.

The deadly curse disappeared, and the corrupted activity was extinguished.

What remained was just ordinary, filthy rotting flesh and filthy blood.

They crackled as they smashed onto the Terminators' shield force fields, splashing dark green stains, but no longer had any erosive power.

Even that nauseating stench lost that soul-piercing feeling of contamination.

The passage gradually returned to silence.

Only the faint sound of pus slowly flowing through the deck seams, and everyone's heavy breathing.

Dominic lowered his arm, looking at Phelps's incomplete corpse on the ground, then at the nineteen Death Guard corpses who had committed suicide around him, and for a moment felt somewhat dazed.

A chaos invasion that could have almost destroyed the whole ship James Tong, and for which he had prepared to die in battle, ended in such an absurd and dramatic way?

He even felt a sense of unreality.

But the next second, his nerves tensed again.

There were still two on the field.

Balo and Kelun.

Two Death Guard who were still conscious.

Dominic did not lower his power sword, and the six Imperial Fists Terminators maintained their formation, gun mouths still aimed at the two.

The Silent Sisters' force field steadily enveloped the entire area, without the slightest slack.

No one knew what these two traitors would do next.

Balo leaned on his power axe, panting heavily.

Every breath carried the smell of rust and rotting flesh.

He looked down at Phelps's headless corpse, then at the nineteen companions' remains around him, and suddenly laughed softly.

The laughter grew louder and more desolate, finally turning into a wry laugh accompanied by coughing blood.

"Ten thousand years, a full ten thousand years..." he shook his head, his voice full of self-mockery.

"Round and round, in the end it was relying on an Untouchable that made us wake up."

Kelun also slowly put down his power hammer.

His left leg could no longer support him; he knelt on one knee on the ground, the hammer handle propped against the deck, barely not falling.

He raised his head, the eyes under his hood looking at Dominic; in his murky deep brown eyes, there was no killing intent, only endless fatigue and vicissitudes.

"Don't be nervous, Grot." His voice was terribly hoarse.

"If we wanted to make a move, we wouldn't have helped you restrain him just now."

Saying this, he let go, letting the power hammer clatter to the ground.

Balo also let go, the power axe leaning diagonally on his shoulder, no longer assuming an attacking posture.

"We... never thought of betraying the Emperor." Balo's voice lowered, as if speaking to Dominic, and also as if speaking to himself.

"During the Great Crusade, our Fourteenth Legion was always at the front line, on the most toxic planets, the most dangerous battlefields, we never complained."

"We were not afraid of death, not afraid of hardship, not afraid of poison gas that could melt armor."

"Because we knew we were fighting for the Emperor, fighting for humanity."

Kelun took over the conversation, his tone carrying a trace of daze:

"Back then, the entire legion took pride in the name 'Death Guard'."

"We thought we would keep fighting like this until we died in battle on some unknown planet, buried in alien soil."

"Until... that plague."

He said no more.

Typhus's betrayal, the Primarch's fall, the legion's decline...

All suffering and struggle turned into a heavy sigh.

"Caught in the flood of the times, many things are not up to us to choose." Balo looked at Dominic, his gaze calm.

"If not for that tragedy, perhaps... we could still have fought side by side."

Dominic fell silent.

He looked at the two hunched, rust-covered veterans before him, at the clarity and weariness in their eyes after the madness had faded, and his heart was a turmoil of mixed feelings.

Hate them? Of course he hated them.

They were Chaos Traitors, enemies of the Empire, their hands stained with the blood of countless humans.

Yet looking at their state right now, hearing them speak of the Great Crusade's glory, he could not bring himself to utter those righteous, stern rebukes.

Ten thousand years.

From humanity's most glorious Great Crusade era, to this dark, desperate forty-first millennium.

They were once the Emperor's Angels, yet now they had become monsters that everyone could kill with impunity.

This itself was a tragedy.

He lowered his Power Sword's tip, but did not fully sheathe it.

The six Imperial Fists Terminators behind him likewise maintained their combat stances, not relaxing in the slightest.

Vigilance was a soldier's instinct.

"What is your purpose for coming to Brevis this time?" Dominic spoke, his voice steady, revealing no emotion.

Balo and Kelun exchanged a glance.

"You think we came all the way from the depths of the Warp just to corrupt a Battlecruiser?" Kelun tugged at the corner of his mouth, revealing an ugly smile.

"Phelps brought us here for two things."

"First, corrupt the Saint Galus Knight Family of Brevis."

"The Rust Plague excels at corrupting Mecha and Machine Spirits; a complete Knight Family could forge a very useful Rust Hounds Warband for the God of Plague."

Dominic's heart sank.

The Saint Galus Family.

It indeed matched up with the situation on the Ground.

"The second matter." Balo took over, his tone growing a few degrees heavier.

"On Brevis Planet, something that drifted out of the Warp is hidden."

"He is very interested in it; the divine oracle Phelps received was to bring it back at all costs."

"What thing?" Dominic immediately pressed.

"It should be a Spell Fragment of the Lord of Change."

"Spell Fragment?" Dominic's brows knitted tight.

"It's normal you haven't heard of it." Balo spoke slowly.

"Legend says the Lord of Change was severely wounded by the other three Evil Gods joining forces in ancient times."

"His Green Skin Body shattered into countless pieces, scattered across the long river of Spacetime's every Corner."

"These Fragments, each contains His Essence and power, able to transform into all manner of bizarre Incantations, artifacts, even Knowledge."

"Whoever obtains one gains a portion of the Lord of Change's authority."

Kelun supplemented: "Phelps hasn't seen the real thing either; he only knows the Fragment fell on Brevis, guarded by a certain Family generation after generation."

"What specific form it takes, where it's hidden, he isn't clear on either."

Dominic's heart gave a fierce jump.

The Saint Galus Family.

Generation after generation guarding.

Fragment.

A name instantly flashed into his mind — STC.