A soul-rending roar swept across all of Terra.
It was not a physical soundwave, but a scream from the heavens.
At that ti, the western hemisphere was shrouded in darkness.
Many sleeping humans fell into nightmares—visions of hell where corpses piled into mountains, the sky was ominously crimson, and rivers of blood and tears flowed.
On burning battlefields, twisted monsters devoured broken bodies;
the dead wandered ruined hos unconsciously,
while the living struggled like ants across scorched, despairing earth.
These were not ordinary nightmares, but brutal ons cast by the gods of Chaos—visions of the destruction of the Imperium and the annihilation of humanity.
The cultists had chosen an abandoned assembly plant as their sacrificial site.
When the blood-soaked ritual tore open the fragile veil of reality, disaster struck.
The earth scread, trembled violently, and cracked apart.
The assembly plant's massive steel structure twisted, groaned, and collapsed.
Bricks and tal parts crashed down like a waterfall, burying all surviving cultists.
Rusted machinery and equipnt smashed together in a deafening cacophony.
Dust billowed into thick, murky columns, blotting out the sky.
Valerian reacted swiftly, calling for an assault gunship and evacuating before the plant fully collapsed.
Datch, not wanting to fly alone, boarded the gunship with several Grey Knights.
The hatch closed, the gunship rose quickly, and they left the crumbling plant behind.
Datch wasn't interested in the apocalyptic scene outside—he cared more about the rewards just received.
[Quest complete: Successfully assisted Shield Captain Valerian in purging the cultists. Congratulations!]
[Quest reward obtained: 1000 experience, 1000 points, Reputation 150, Frog Candy x10]
"I have lots of experience points; ti to upgrade combat skills."
When entering the ga, Datch had chosen simple mode, learning few skills along the way, relying mostly on tools and items.
Currently, Datch had only one active skill: "Stomp"—slamming the ground to create a shockwave that knocked back enemies.
On the other hand, passive skills like chainsaw proficiency, marksmanship, and vehicle operation were greatly enhanced.
Datch clicked the skill bar, choosing the active skill "Killing Desire."
[Killing Desire Lv1: During combat, all effective damage dealt to enemies restores a small amount of health. The higher the damage, the more health restored. Skill can be toggled on or off at any ti.
Comnt: Even Player needs blood to return. Can you say Khorne isn't your chosen god?]
"Wow, this is practical!"
Datch's eyes lit up.
For soone who didn't like to think, this was a magical skill that massively increased survivability.
Without hesitation, Datch spent all accumulated experience points, upgrading "Killing Desire" and also improving "Stomp."
Satisfied, Datch looked out at the world from the gunship.
The familiar landscape of Terra had disappeared.
The hive capital and the magnificent bridge outside Lion's Gate were torn by hellfire-filled fissures.
Deep within the rifts, dark red energy swirled.
Thick, plasma-like flas spewed forth, licking desperately at crumbling old buildings.
The intensity of the fire was astonishing;
fiery tongues leapt into the thin air, dyeing the sky a sickly orange-red.
Hundreds of grand halls, towers, and monunts—once the pinnacle of human architectural art—were now engulfed in flas from the sky, crackling and collapsing.
In this infernal scene, the daemonic army of Khorne kept pouring from on high into the material universe.
First ca eighty-eight Bloodletters with red bodies and flaming blades.
They roared for blood, mouths full of fetid, drooling fangs, eyes filled only with killing intent.
Soon, their number grew to eight hundred eighty-eight, bursting from flas and fissures, forming battle formations with eight—the sacred number.
Finally, the entire torn landscape was polluted. Daemonic eggs—capable of spawning more daemons—appeared everywhere.
Many nightmare creatures burst from their shells, wrapped in flas, crying out for blood and battle.
Brass-masked knights rode steeds forged of brass, black iron, and chanical parts—iron hooves striking sparks with every step, shaking the broken ground.
The apostles of war, crowned in corrupt light, stood upon skull-thrones, chanting blasphemous battle hymns, leading the Khorne legions forward.
Hundreds of drooling, pus-and-blood-sared beasts roared, the earth trembling with each step.
Warhounds with rusted iron collars and multiple ugly heads growled, baring their teeth.
Chaos Lords with moving fortresses, flaming eyes, and smokestacks on their backs...
Countless daemon types, each in different forms, ford a bloodthirsty, hierarchical army.
They set foot upon Terra in an endless stream.
When the warp storm reached its peak, eight of Khorne's daemons descended as commanders, wielding the power to destroy everything.
Their mountainous bodies shrouded in black flas and crimson lightning, tearing the air.
Chains stained with blood wrapped their bulging muscles, clinking with each movent.
Bundles of skulls of various sizes clashed endlessly.
Their bat-like wings suddenly spread wide, tips ablaze with hellfire.
Their massive mouths were packed with fangs, unable to close, drool perpetually hissing and corroding the ground.
Each stomp of their huge, cracked hooves turned scorched earth into boiling rivers of plasma.
In one hand, they wielded battleaxes burning with hellfire; in the other, long whips bristling with spikes and barbs.
As soon as they arrived, they roared at the Imperial walls, their howls shaking the sky.
Khorne's daemons were the strongest servants of the Blood God—manifestations of ultimate fear of war, rage, and the destruction of sentient beings, recorded in countless worlds' myths as instrunts of annihilation.
As these eight terrifying entities charged the towering walls of Lion's Gate, the whole earth groaned and trembled under their assault.
"They're targeting the palace!"
Valerian's voice ca through the comms, tinged with anxiety.
Through the observation window, he watched the daemonic tide surging below.
These warp-spawned monsters, now with physical bodies, eagerly trampled the sa walls they had breached ten millennia before.
The instant the daemons appeared, the Imperial counterattack began.
The walls of Lion's Gate erupted in defensive firepower.
Artillery batteries thundered.
Missiles rose in swarms.
Flaming laser beams crisscrossed, forming a deadly net.
Overwhelming bombardnt carved a temporary killing ground before the city's walls.
Orbital warships and ard space stations, hindered by warp energy interference, did not dare fire for fear of friendly fire.
The walls of Lion's Gate soared high, far above the hive towers.
The firepower stationed there was terrifying, enough to crush any army in the galaxy.
Yet Valerian feared that even such magnificent walls might collapse under the daemons' assault.
No matter how grand, human-made structures could not resist the malice of gods.
"We must organize a counterattack imdiately. No matter the cost, we must hold Lion's Gate."
Valerian steadied himself and ordered the pilot:
"Aye, my lord," the pilot replied, calmly steering the gunship to the defensive platform on the wall—amidst furious battle.
Datch saw a new golden question mark above Valerian and hurried over.
"Valerian, anything I can help with?"
Valerian turned, gazed at Datch, then looked out the porthole at the desperate tide of daemons below, and spoke gravely:
"Your Excellency, the situation is grave. The Blood God's army seeks to break Lion's Gate and seize the palace's heart. If they succeed, the consequences are unimaginable.
Please—help us resist this daemonic horde, do not let them set foot in the palace!"
A task panel appeared before Datch:
[Quest: Assist the Imperium in winning the Battle of Lion's Gate.
The emperor's power is too great; for now, he cannot personally defend Terra.
Cultists, through blood rituals, have summoned the Blood God's servants to Terra.
These evil warp entities seek to breach Lion's Gate, invade the Imperial Palace, and overthrow the emperor from the Golden Throne, seeking the destruction of humanity and the Imperium.
Quest rewards: 2000 experience, 2000 points, Reputation 300, Rat Charm (24 hours) x1]
"A rat charm—good stuff!"
Datch was delighted, eyes sparkling.
This charm could animate inanimate objects, even statues—very useful.
If he ever went to a bar, he'd use it to animate the statue of St. Giles—seeing living angels would make the Blood God's followers scream in excitent.
"I'll help."
Datch accepted the quest without hesitation.
Rat charm, rat charm—my favorite.
He changed into his pumpkin suit, tossed a poke ball into the air, and summoned Skarbrand and the Changeling.
Boom!!
Skarbrand materialized in the air, crashing into the daemonic tide before the walls with the force of a teor.
Nearby Bloodhounds and Warhounds were sent flying by the shockwave.
At the sa ti, the ever-shifting Changeling appeared in a burst of twisted color and laughter, relishing the chaotic battlefield.
Skarbrand, rising from a smoke-and-dust-filled crater, let out an ear-splitting roar.
Raising his soul-drinking battleaxe, he prepared to begin a grand slaughter.
But, seeing the massed crimson figures before him, he suddenly froze.
Eh—??
The daemon, gradually regaining personality, thought, and will, widened his eyes.
He saw eight bloodthirsty entities—Bloodthirsters—charging toward the human wall...
This was all wrong!
He'd fought for the Blood God, hoping for enough slaughter and war to earn a return to the Brass Realm.
Now, was that damned human making him fight against the Blood God's will again??
In the air, the Changeling hurled magical fireballs at the Khorne daemons, giggling, sensing Skarbrand's predicant and eagerly anticipating the show.
"For the Emperor! Kill them, quick!!"
As Skarbrand tried to refuse the order, Datch, jetting across the battlefield, shouted, urging the daemons to fight.
In the next instant, Skarbrand was wracked by an unspeakable pain that struck his very soul!
It was not physical pain, but as if red-hot iron chains constricted his will—a terrifying command.
That human's order compelled obedience, forced him to kill.
"ROOOAAARRR—!!"
Skarbrand resisted for a mont, but was soon overwheld by endless pain and rage.
This Blood God-exiled daemon let out a sky-shaking roar and stomped the ground, crushing unlucky daemons beneath his feet.
Then, like a cold killing machine, he brandished his axe and charged into the crimson daemon tide.
Skarbrand, a champion whose re presence had terrified champions of other daemon hosts, was now advancing against the endless wave—limbs and blood flying in his wake.
This spectacle stunned not only the Imperial defenders but even the Khorne daemons themselves.
The eight Bloodthirster commanders stared at Skarbrand in confusion.
Wasn't that the exiled Skarbrand?
Hadn't he tried to please Khorne, wanting enough slaughter to return to the Brass Realm?
Why was he now standing with the Emperor's lackeys, fighting against them?
This was taboo!
They could fight and compete, proving themselves with enemy blood and heads.
But such surrender to an enemy was never allowed.
Did Skarbrand realize he could never return, so he broke the bottle and smashed everything?
The Khorne daemons couldn't understand, and the heroes of the Imperium preparing to fight at Lion's Gate were also stunned.
"Wait... Khorne daemons? Helping to kill other daemons?!"
When the Grey Knight reinforcents from Titan arrived on the wall, their leader was utterly confused.
"I must still be dreaming,"
said a newly awakened Grey Knight, unafraid.
"This world is just too crazy, feels so weird."
Crowl, arriving with the Tribunal forces, shook his head repeatedly.
Only Guilliman, Greyfax, Sicarius, and a few others were unsurprised.
Don't even think about it—this must be the work of the naless one.
He always did the impossible.
…
Deep within the warp, inside a brass fortress of tal and skulls,
eyes blazing with endless rage and murderous intent watched everything happening on Terra.
Seeing forr champion Skarbrand swinging his axe on Terra,
even the Daemon God of Chaos—the very embodint of rage and destruction—showed a glimr of doubt about reality.
How could a dog who used to fight for his joy suddenly beco a lackey to a cursed human!?
Whoever forced Skarbrand into slavery must be a despicable, shaless, accursed one.
…
"For the Emperor, hurry, Skarbrand—kill them all and make a great contribution!"
Datch shouted while fighting.
His words roused the Blood God, seated upon a brass throne.
No!!
Skarbrand is mine!
Even if I exiled him and declared he'd never co back, I will never allow him to be enslaved by another.
"ROOOOOAAAAAARRRRRR——!!!!!!!"
In the next mont, a roar a billion tis more terrifying than any daemon howl on Terra exploded from the depths of the warp.
It was a howl of ultimate rage—deceived, defiled, challenged in absolute authority.
Under this god of rage's fury, the entire warp boiled and trembled, unleashing terrifying psychic storms and waves of destruction that could engulf the galaxy.
But it was also an outlet—a command that drove the daemons of the brass fortress to charge along the rift toward battle.
They surged like a flood of blood, pouring ever more desperately toward Terra, toward Lion's Gate.
...
Bonus chapter at 300 pS
User Comments
0 comments from readers