Warhammer 40K: Veterans Surge Like a Torrent, Heretics Beg for the End Chapter 12 12: If I Play Dead, You Can't Hit Me Anymore

A corner of the Upper Hive.

Dense rebel forces nervously scanned their surroundings.

Especially the passage leading to the tower's summit, the rebels checked with imnse fear every few seconds.

The once-crowded rebels, who had been curious about the various 'oddities' of the Upper Hive, now all huddled behind defensive lines and structures, not even daring to expose half their bodies.

A trendous sense of dread hovered over the heads of these rebels, who were usually the ones spreading terror.

At this mont, at the very core of this rebel force.

In a deeply buried underground fortress, 'Blasphemous Horn' sat on a chair, his prominent horn on full display, his face twisted with pent-up frustration.

Blasphemous Horn was the horned man who had previously brought the walker to the Sith.

As a room belonging to the cultist rebels, Blasphemous Horn's quarters were not only unusually bright but even brilliantly illuminated.

If not for the bizarre rebel soldiers standing all around and Blasphemous Horn's appearance being far from 'holy,' one might have mistaken it for so radiant hall.

Scanning every corner illuminated by the lights once more, confirming that he was still safe, at least within this room, the fear in Blasphemous Horn's brow eased slightly.

He reached out to pour himself a glass of prothium spirits, but just as he picked up the bottle, the door in front of him suddenly swung open.

Bang!

The rebel at the door and those around looked at Blasphemous Horn in confusion as the bottle full of spirits fell to the ground, spilling its contents everywhere.

Watching the liquor go to waste, the rebels looked regretful and collectively swallowed hard.

Blasphemous Horn, however, stared at the doorway, and only when he confird it was just one of his own rebels did his expression improve slightly.

But before the rebel could even speak, the frustration in Blasphemous Horn's brow grew even thicker.

"What is it this ti?"

Blasphemous Horn asked weakly, his gaze fixed on the rebel at the door, his heart as bitter as if he'd swallowed a whole lump of prothium.

There was no other way. Ever since he had finally 'beaten the gongs and drums' to'send off' those gods of slaughter, the Sith, to the tower summit...

He thought he could finally get a good night's sleep, but not long after, those gods of slaughter had actively co back down.

And the way they ca down was sothing Blasphemous Horn couldn't bring himself to like.

The words of the rebel at the door confird this.

"About three thousand people attacked our supply point. The supplies that just arrived were stolen again."

Blasphemous Horn's eye twitched violently. He froze for a mont before gritting his teeth and speaking:

"Didn't I order the supply point defenses to be strengthened? How were they stolen again?"

Blasphemous Horn felt his heart pounding wildly. He instinctively reached for his glass, only to realize his bottle was already on the floor, emptied.

His cheek twitched as he suppressed his rage and withdrew his hand. The rebel at the door, seeing Blasphemous Horn's reaction, lowered his head slightly in fear.

"We did strengthen them. We stationed over ten thousand n, but..."

The rebel didn't dare continue, but even without him saying it, Blasphemous Horn knew what had happened.

And the thought of three thousand n breaking through his ten thousand, with the smaller side being the attackers, filled Blasphemous Horn with a deep sense of powerlessness beneath his gritted teeth.

His body trembled from the extre emotional turmoil. Shaking, Blasphemous Horn sat back down in his chair. Though utterly unwilling, he forced himself to ask the question he'd asked countless tis before:

"The observers? Did they spot any familiar faces?"

The rebel at the door shook his head stiffly. Seeing it was yet another group of fresh faces he'd never seen before, Blasphemous Horn felt all his strength drain away, collapsing in despair.

"Chaos God... It must be a Chaos God on the other side!"

Slumped and burying his head, Blasphemous Horn's face was full of the terror of having encountered sothing utterly sinister.

Fine, you have one or two thousand elite warriors. I can accept that. I can even accept that these one or two thousand elites can cut through my hundreds of thousands of rebels.

But you can't tell these elites are mass-produced!!!

When the Sith ca down from the tower summit to raid rebel supplies and incidentally rack up kills, Blasphemous Horn hadn't caught on at first.

He just thought these elites didn't have enough to eat or drink and, unwilling to learn from the rebels' cannibalism, ca down to ask him for supplies. That seed normal.

But after several battles, seeing that he had indeed taken down so of them, yet the enemy's numbers not only didn't decrease but actually increased, Blasphemous Horn finally realized sothing was wrong.

He then arranged for a group of rebels with good mories to specifically observe. After a few more incidents, Blasphemous Horn received a terrifying piece of news.

Those elites on the other side seed to be different every ti!

And the implication behind this was sothing Blasphemous Horn, even now, refused to believe.

As a mid-level commander of the rebels in this Hive City, he knew full well there were no Imperial Army troops at the tower summit.

If not for fearing the Imperial side's aerial superiority, they would have occupied the summit long ago.

So these new elites couldn't have been hiding at the summit before; they must have appeared after the Sith went up.

And considering this ant the Sith were churning out so many elites in such a short ti, Blasphemous Horn, after much thought, could only co up with one explanation: the personal arrival of a Chaos God.

And now convinced that he wasn't facing so small, roving Imperial Army force but a genuine Chaos God, Blasphemous Horn instantly felt the nonexistent lump of prothium in his mouth grow even more bitter...

"Boss, should we continue strengthening the supply points?"

Seeing Blasphemous Horn remain silent for a long ti, the rebel at the door asked cautiously. His voice was soft, but Blasphemous Horn suddenly straightened up.

"Strengthen? Strengthen what?"

"They just want so supplies. Why would you send people to refuse them?"

"Do you even understand manners?"

A hint of madness appeared on Blasphemous Horn's face. Having witnessed the Sith's various exaggerated feats, he was now firmly convinced he was facing a Chaos God descended to the mortal realm.

And the thought that he had repeatedly denied the Chaos God's requests for 'tribute' sent a chill down his spine.

The more he thought about it, the more terrified he beca. Blasphemous Horn suddenly stood up from his chair:

"Pass the order! Dismantle all firing positions! If the... uh, the esteed one above cos again, no one is to resist!"

After all, supplies were continuously produced from the Middle Hive and Underhive. Feeding the few people at the tower summit wasn't even a drop in the bucket.

The rebels exchanged glances but then visibly relaxed, nodding hurriedly.

The rebel at the door, especially afraid Blasphemous Horn might change his mind, imdiately turned and left to carry out the order.

After all, if Blasphemous Horn was scared, these rebels, whom the Sith used for experience, were even more terrified!

But just after the rebel left, before Blasphemous Horn's backside had even ward the chair, the rebel ran back in panic.

Then, pointing toward the tower summit direction, he stamred:

"All... all... everyone..."

Blasphemous Horn glared at him angrily:

"What 'all'? What 'everyone'?"

The rebel was startled, quickly taking a deep breath, his face full of terror:

"Everyone from the tower summit has co down! All of them!"

The air instantly froze. Even the lights overhead coincidentally flickered.

Blasphemous Horn's face instantly turned deathly pale, his eyes filled only with the fear of impending death.

But the expected sounds of conflict and gunfire never ca. After waiting for a long ti, there was only silence. Blasphemous Horn's eyes narrowed in confusion.

Without asking the rebel at the door, Blasphemous Horn strode out personally. Then, looking at the scene in the distance, his eyes gradually widened.

Along several wide passages, dense ranks of black-clad soldiers were marching into the Upper Hive with thunderous footsteps.

These black-clad soldiers didn't imdiately launch an attack. Instead, they arrayed themselves on the ground, waiting to assemble.

"Are they... attacking?"

Blasphemous Horn muttered. Then, carefully observing the deploynt and positioning of the Sith Legion soldiers for a mont, his gaze suddenly shifted to the passages leading out of the Upper Hive.

"No, it's a breakout!"

The tower summit had no supplies, no factories, no population. It wasn't a safe zone that could hold out until the end of the Alert Star's chaotic war.

For the Sith to survive the chaotic war, breaking out toward a safe zone was the only path.

The Sith had expected a bloody, hard-fought battle against the entire Hive City's rebels. But after Blasphemous Horn figured out the Sith's intention, things took a different turn.

"The Chaos God is leaving?!"

Suppressing the uncontrollable upward twitch of his mouth, Blasphemous Horn's face flushed red before he suddenly turned to look at the rebel beside him.

"Anyone who dares to stop them, I'll chop into minceat!!!"