As the spire carrying the governor's Palace collapsed, the Tyrant, perched atop the Mechanical Spire, once again shifted its attention to the storm raven gunship in the sky.
"Aaaahhhhhh!!!!!"
The Blood Angels warrior piloting the storm raven let out a sharp wail.
A powerful psychic force violently pushed against the entire gunship, and almost everyone instantly heard the cries of millions of Tyranid.
The Tyrant was not only a Titan giant standing on the battlefield, but also a massive Tyranid psychic unit.
Its enormous brain tissue and specialized nervous system were enough to make it a psychic unit far beyond common sense.
Even if most of its psychic power was used to maintain its shield, it was still far beyond what mortals could contend with.
However,
The white-haired Mephiston suddenly opened his weary eyes, and streams of azure psychic flames burst forth from them.
He flicked his finger, and the air around them instantly turned frigid, as if everyone had been teleported to a cold planet.
Reyna watched this scene in astonishment. As a psyker, she knew that when psyker allowed Warp power to enter reality, it would, to some extent, lower the air temperature around them.
But such extreme cold was something Reyna could never achieve.
Mephiston's finger suddenly pointed at the Tyrant, and the Tyranid cries echoing in everyone's ears abruptly vanished.
Then, a psychic lightning bolt, thicker than the storm raven gunship, gathered and spiraled like a giant serpent, striking the Tyrant.
Intense ripples spread across the Tyrant's psychic shield, and the Tyrant's entire body trembled.
"Yaaaaahhhhh!!!!!"
The Tyrant let out a roar, and the powerful sound waves transformed into a hurricane that shook the entire Mechanical Spire.
Its psychic power suddenly intensified, condensing on its psychic shield, and forcefully shattered the psychic lightning released by Mephiston.
The bio-cannon in its hand was raised high, aimed at the storm raven gunship in mid-air.
Biological projectiles, roaring with fire, shot rapidly towards the Blood Angels group.
Mephiston suddenly spread his hands, and his psychic power transformed into tiny particles, instantly covering the entire storm raven gunship.
Everyone only saw a faint glow appear before their eyes, and then the surrounding scenery shifted and changed, as the biological projectiles released by the Tyrant flew past them in the distance.
Did the Tyrant miss?
Reyna was stunned for a moment, then realized that it wasn't that the Tyrant had missed. It was Mephiston who, using his own psychic power, had teleported the entire storm raven gunship.
What powerful psychic abilities! Reyna even suspected that his psychic power had surpassed the collective power of those brain-Tyranid from before.
But, uh...
Reyna looked at the Blood Angels Chief Librarian named Mephiston.
His hair was almost silver, with only a faint hint of the golden color common among Blood Angels.
His skin was also eerily pale, looking as if he had never been exposed to the sun.
Moreover, this Chief Librarian had previously been huddled in the dark corner of the storm raven gunship, as if deliberately avoiding sunlight.
And Reyna wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but she felt that the Chief Librarian's teeth seemed a little sharp.
She somewhat suspected that this Chief Librarian might be... a little... mutated, looking somewhat like the legendary...
"A vampire who dabbles in sorcery," Anrakyr the Traveller said, looking at Mephiston with a hint of disdain.
But in his cold tone, there was an unconscious trace of wariness.
Even he could not ignore Mephiston's powerful psychic abilities.
The moment he heard the phrase "vampire who dabbles in sorcery," Chapter Master Dante's hand suddenly clenched into a fist.
Mephiston also turned his weary face, giving Anrakyr the Traveller a stern, warning look.
"My Lord," Mephiston panted, looking at Dante and showing him his exhaustion.
He had previously dueled with the psychic beasts, directly facing the hive mind, and was still recovering from his fatigue.
Dante nodded slightly: "Everyone, prepare for the drop."
"Proceed as planned - huh?"
Commander Dante suddenly froze.
He saw that on the Mechanical Spire, next to the Tyrant, within its psychic shield, a pinkish-red wooden door suddenly appeared.
The wooden door was so neat and clean, so perfectly intact, standing amidst the ruins, it seemed somewhat out of place.
His superhuman observational skills told him that the wooden door had not been there a moment ago.
Suddenly, the wooden door opened.
Out of the wooden door walked a bald figure over three meters tall.
Dante clearly saw the figure's face, a face full of divinity and benevolence, yet not lacking in majesty and nobility.
Dante instantly felt dizzy, as if his soul had been heavily punched.
"Father!!!" Dante exclaimed involuntarily.
The figure's face was identical to Sanguinius', and even its physique was exactly the same, only it had no hair.
Dante even vaguely seemed to hear the sound of wings flapping.
"My Father!"
"By the Blood of Sanguinius!"
"Dad!!! Ugh! Dad, why are you bald?!"
Not just Dante, but all the Blood Angels on the storm raven gunship were stunned as if struck by lightning.
That was actually the Archangel's own face! Even Sanguileno only wore a golden mask carved with the Archangel's face.
Mephiston's expression was even more horrified.
His powerful psychic abilities allowed him to vaguely see a faintly blue-white light suspended behind the figure, with a pair of wings subtly flapping within the light.
"Could it really be my Father? No... why is my Father bald?"
"A trick of the Lord of Change? Then why didn't it give him hair?"
Mephiston's face was filled with confusion.
And Reyna, recognizing this posture, slightly shrank her body, trying to avoid drawing attention to herself.
Just then, the bald man with Sanguinius' face, standing behind the Tyrant, slowly took out an ancient gourd from his clothes.
Reyna was stunned; she recognized the gourd.
"Ta-da! Pocket Tornado!"
The bald man with Sanguinius' face raised the ancient gourd in his hand and suddenly pulled out the stopper.
A swirling tornado suddenly surged from the gourd, then quickly swept up the suffocating air around it, forming a gray tornado that spiraled upwards, expanding to the size of the Mechanical Spire in the blink of an eye.
The surrounding bricks, rubble, surviving buildings, and the Tyranid entrenched within them were instantly swept up.
The Tyrant let out a roar, its four sharp claws digging firmly into the ground, struggling to resist the suddenly appearing gray hurricane before it.
However, even its massive body began to appear tiny in front of the increasingly enormous hurricane that soared into the clouds.
And the man with Sanguinius' face had long since slipped into the pinkish-red wooden door and disappeared without a trace.
At this moment, the Tyrant was putting all its effort into fighting the storm, having no mind to pay attention to Dante and his group in the sky.
However, Dante on the storm raven gunship had no time to be happy.
The storm had indeed engulfed the Tyrant, but the storm was also heading towards Dante's storm raven gunship.
"Quickly descend to the Gate of Contemplation near the Mechanical Spire!"
Alexander stood atop a distant Mechanical Spire, watching as the howling grey hurricane swallowed most of it, countless Tyranid being swept into the sky, shaking in the wind like shattered stones.
Even the massive Tyranid Behemoth could not resist the terrifying storm unleashed by the Pocket Tornado.
The Pocket Tornado was capable of releasing a storm that could instantly cover an area the size of a small town, but its drawback was that it was indiscriminate, sweeping up even Alexander himself if he stood within it.
That was why Alexander had never used the Pocket Tornado at full power before.
But now, with the anywhere door, Alexander could finally realize his long-held dream.
He now only needed to open the anywhere door, appear in the center of the Tyranid, drop the Pocket Tornado, and then slip back into the anywhere door to escape.
How satisfying!
Alexander watched the chitinous torrent ascend into the sky in the distance, feeling quite refreshed and relieved.
The massive Tyrant was still resisting the storm with its immense size and psychic power.
But even it was now starting to shake uncontrollably, as if it would be lifted into the sky at any moment.
The storm's attack was too sudden, and it was unleashed within its psychic shield, giving the Tyrant no time to react.
But Alexander knew that even the Pocket Tornado could not truly defeat the Tyrant, and he had no such intention.
The Tyrant was a Titan, a living God-Machine.
Just as only a Primarch could defeat a Primarch, only a God-Machine or the power of a God itself could defeat a God-Machine.
It was just that, because of him, the Tyrant had appeared on the battlefield far too early.
Alexander had to maintain a certain balance between the Necrons, the Blood Angels, and the Tyranid, eventually leading Anrakyr the Traveller to play his trump card, and ensure the Blood Angels and Necrons' plan to ignite the entire Netherworld Star System could be realized.
Glancing at the Tyrant Titan about to be swept off the Mechanical Spire, Alexander once again took out the anywhere door from his four-dimensional pocket.
"Lexio," Alexander whispered to the anywhere door, "Shears Cathedral."
On the other side of the door, the sound of waves and the sharp cries of the Tyranid followed.
"Wait," Sanguinius suddenly interrupted Alexander.
He looked at Alexander, who had his face and a shining bald head, and his eyes twitched involuntarily: "If you see my progeny—"
Shears Cathedral was an ancient temple on Lexio from an ancient era, used by the people to worship the Sea God.
At that time, people worshipped the Sea God Shears, and the vast, frozen sea on Lexio.
But then the blasphemous binary stars of the Netherworld Star System unleashed scorching solar fire, and radiation-filled dark red flares illuminated Lexio's moon, then swept across the entire planet.
The frozen sea melted as a result, and boundless waves swallowed the entire planet, tearing apart cities and cathedrals.
If not for Lexio's moon, Iksok, being large enough to hold the ocean with its gravity, the entire Lexio would have long since sunk into the Sea God's betrayal.
So the enraged survivors roared as they stormed into the ruins of the cathedral, killing the remaining priests and turning to worship the moon, salt, and sun instead.
And when the Adeptus Ministorum arrived on this planet, they chose the ruins of the cathedral as their stronghold, building a magnificent cathedral upon it.
This was not just a cathedral, but a magnificent fortress-monastery, with a complete, still-functioning defense system.
Chapter Master Gabriel Seth of the Flesh Tearers walked behind the defensive array of Void Shields, gazing at the silent cathedral.
The scent of seawater still permeated every part of the cathedral, reminding Gabriel Seth that this had once been heretical territory.
Even with the statue of Sanguinius standing here, Gabriel Seth still felt no sense of belonging or peace, and could not suppress his desire for slaughter.
"Hah," Gabriel Seth exhaled a breath smelling of blood.
He almost felt fangs growing, the craving for blood, slaughter, and rage tempting him at every moment.
His Chapter was like this; for some unknown reason, as a successor Chapter of the Blood Angels, the Flesh Tearers were far more prone to the Bloodthirst and Black Rage than their other cousin Chapters.
Their entire Chapter was reduced to only four companies, far fewer than a normal Chapter, simply because too many of their brothers had been consumed by the Black Rage.
And this also led to the Flesh Tearers' notorious reputation within the Imperium.
Even during the Great Crusade, the name Flesh Tearers already existed.
The first Chapter Master, Amit, was once a Captain of the Blood Angels Legion, but he was savage and bloody, even frequently participating in the World Eaters' gladiatorial arenas; he even forged a friendship with Khârn, the then Captain of the Eighth Company of the World Eaters, and eventually earned the moniker "Flesh Tearers" at the hands of the World Eaters.
Later, the Flesh Tearers Chapter, founded in his name, also inherited his savage and bloody fighting style.
The Flesh Tearers' ferocity in battle even terrified other Imperial forces.
Exterminating an entire planet, slaughtering innocent civilians, attacking allied forces indiscriminately… these were all things the Flesh Tearers had done.
And their allies…
The Space Wolves had once fired upon the Flesh Tearers for slaughtering civilians, the Sisters of the Order of the Silver Shroud had angrily demanded that the Inquisition and the High Lords purge the Flesh Tearers Chapter, and many others refused to fight alongside the Flesh Tearers.
And when Gabriel Seth became Chapter Master of the Blood Angels, the High Sanguinary Priests informed him of a harsh truth:
The Flesh Tearers' brothers were falling into the Black Rage too frequently, and the replenishment rate from their homeworld, Cretacia, could no longer keep up.
The Flesh Tearers would eventually be annihilated, disappearing from the history of the Imperium; perhaps that day would come in one or two centuries.
So Seth swore to his brothers:
If the Flesh Tearers were destined to perish, then at least they would leave behind honor, so that people would remember them rather than fear them.
Thus, Gabriel Seth led the Flesh Tearers to patrol the galaxy, going to the most dangerous places, responding to distress calls from any sector.
The Flesh Tearers remained savage, but Seth chose to keep his Chapter isolated from other armies as much as possible, fighting alone to prevent their savagery and rage from harming the Imperium's allies.
Seth's efforts had some effect; they did receive some honor and praise, and there were even those who had been saved who thanked Seth.
But more people still feared the Flesh Tearers, despised the Flesh Tearers, and now the Flesh Tearers were on the brink of extinction.
So Seth answered Dante's call, being the first to arrive at Baal to fight alongside them, and then came to the Netherworld Star System.
He knew this would be a dangerous battle, and the Flesh Tearers might perish in it, but for Sanguinius, Seth hoped for a death filled with honor.
"Hmph."
Seth exhaled a bloody breath. He looked at the pastoralists in the cathedral.
These pastoralists did not believe in the Emperor; they were heretics, and Seth's orders only required him to protect the Crawler machines acting as relays.
There was no requirement for Seth to protect civilians, especially a group of heretical civilians.
But the Battle Sisters were different; the Battle Sisters of the Order of the Sacred Rose, especially High Sister Magda, insisted on protecting these heretical civilians.
Kill them, a voice filled with anger and bloodlust said in Seth's mind.
Kill them, punish them, please his Chapter with blood, invigorate them with slaughter.
Kill them, kill them, kill them…
"No!!!" Seth roared, rejecting the anger that kept surging in his mind.
The Battle Sisters were now holding the line with his Chapter; if his Chapter slaughtered civilians and succumbed to rage…
Seth dared not imagine how terrifying that scene would be, filled with blood, fear, and disgust.
He couldn't help but look up at the statue of the Archangel before him, hoping to find some peace in it.
But there was nothing, absolutely nothing. Perhaps because this was once a place of heretics, Seth only smelled the stench of seawater.
Seth instantly became more agitated and angry. He seemed to feel blood and endless fury wanting to consume him.
No! Seth gritted his teeth, forcefully suppressing the anger in his heart.
He knew why he was here; death… a death full of honor was what he yearned for.
He would suppress his fury, and he would suppress the fury of his brothers, he would—
Suddenly, the roars of the Tyranid erupted outside the monastery.
Seth immediately grabbed his two-handed Chainsword, named Gorechild, and rushed out of the monastery gate.
High Sister Magda stood solemnly behind the defense system, looking at the distant sea of Tyranid.
An endless tide of chitinous carapaces was surging towards the monastery.
Gabriel Seth couldn't help but tighten his grip on Gorechild. He would suppress his rage, bringing death to himself and to these blasphemous xenos.
"They are so numerous," High Sister Magda said, her voice hoarse.
Previously, the Tyranid had always been recycling biomass on the planet, never truly attacking the Battle Sisters with full force.
But whether it was Dante's actions or the arrival of the Flesh Tearers, the Tyranid began to concentrate their forces, attempting to eliminate the Battle Sisters and the Flesh Tearers.
"In the name of Sanguinius' blood, I will kill," Gabriel Seth roared.
High Sister Magda looked at Gabriel Seth with concern; she could feel that the Chapter Master was struggling to suppress his innate rage.
"Fight in the Emperor's name, not in the name of rage."
"Take blood in Sanguinius' name, not in the name of slaughter."
"Bring death in humanity's name, not in the name of bloodlust."
High Sister Magda said in a low, solemn voice; her voice seemed to help Gabriel Seth suppress his anger to some extent.
"I will suppress my rage, High Sister," Gabriel Seth slightly nodded towards High Sister Magda.
Just then, a pinkish-red wooden door suddenly appeared in front of the Tyranid tide.
The wooden door gently pushed open, and a bald man emerged from it.
High Sister Magda's mechanical eye clearly saw the bald man's face.
"Ah?" High Sister Magda's voice held panic.
She looked at Gabriel Seth beside her, noticing Seth's expression suddenly contort into a knot.
Gabriel Seth's body trembled uncontrollably with rage.
This was because he saw a bald man emerge from a wooden door that appeared out of thin air, bearing a face identical to Sanguinius.
That face was filled with the mercy, nobility, and divinity unique to Sanguinius. If not for the conspicuous bald head, Gabriel Seth would surely have thought it was the Gene-Father manifesting or that he had completely succumbed to the Black Rage.
Of course, even so, Seth still suspected he had been consumed by the Black Rage.
"High Sister!"
Gabriel Seth raised his voice, his entire being seething with anger so palpable it almost solidified, causing High Sister Magda to shiver slightly:
"Tell me, is what I see real?!"
High Sister Magda swallowed subtly, nodding almost imperceptibly.
"Is that our Gene-Father? Or some blasphemous lie and disguise?" Gabriel Seth demanded, almost a roar.
Behind him, more and more Flesh Tearers Astartes noticed the figure emerging from the wooden door,
The figure with their father's face.
High Sister Magda's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.
How was she supposed to answer that question? Her reason told her that figure could not possibly be Sanguinius, the Gene-Father of the Blood Angels.
But... what was with the sacred feeling on that face?
Noticing High Sister Magda's hesitation, and looking at the Tyranid swarm charging in the distance, and the bald figure standing between the Tyranid swarm and the cathedral,
Gabriel Seth exhaled a deep breath of blood-tinged air.
He was trying hard to suppress the urge to kill, to suppress the anger and madness, but he was almost at his limit.
And the Flesh Tearers behind him were even more so.
Gabriel Seth knew that if they didn't charge soon, this unvented anger and madness might be unleashed upon their comrades.
"Kill! In the name of Sanguinius' blood!!!!"
Gabriel Seth roared, charging into battle with his two-handed Chainsword named Blood Reaver.
The Flesh Tearers behind him also let out roars almost like beasts, charging madly towards the Tyranid swarm that was approaching the cathedral.
And Gabriel Seth, wielding that sharp two-handed Chainsword, roared as he charged towards the bald man who had emerged from the wooden door, bearing Sanguinius' sacred face.
By the blood of Sanguinius, he would personally confirm whether it was blasphemy or divinity.
Alexander looked numbly at both sides of the battlefield.
He hadn't intended to appear right in the middle of the battlefield. He had originally wanted to enter the Xielers Cathedral through the anywhere door, to first gain the trust of Seth and the High Sister.
But perhaps General Drost's map to Alexander was inaccurate, or perhaps the map was too old, and the terrain on Lexio had shifted due to seawater erosion. The location where Alexander appeared after opening the anywhere door was precisely the center of the battlefield.
Now, to Alexander's left, was an endless chitinous ocean, a hungry Tyranid swarm.
The Tyranid swarm, upon seeing Alexander, charged even faster, clearly converging in Alexander's direction.
And to Alexander's right, were red-armored warriors roaring in anger. Their savage, bloody roars almost made Alexander think they were a group of World Eaters.
Only upon closer inspection did he realize they were the Flesh Tearers, a successor chapter of the Blood Angels. If they hadn't said anything, he would have thought Khorne had attacked.
"How presumptuous." Sanguinius chuckled twice.
Alexander had no time to bicker with him now.
The furiously roaring Flesh Tearers warriors, like a tide of blood, charged towards Alexander and the Tyranid swarm.
They exuded anger so palpable it was almost physical, followed by a tide of bolter rounds, artillery shells, and laser beams, falling like rain upon the distant Tyranid swarm, blasting the blasphemous xenos into tumbling chunks of flesh.
The Flesh Tearers warriors, equipped with jump packs, roared, flames erupting from their backs, and suddenly plunged from the sky into the Tyranid tide.
The low-level Tyranid creatures, composed of Hormagaunts, Termagaunts, and Gargoyles, quickly collided with them, sandwiching Alexander in between.
Alexander quickly put away the anywhere door, dodging the Tyranid swarm's bio-projectiles and claws with a speed that even the enraged Flesh Tearers warriors couldn't help but marvel at.
But the Flesh Tearers, in a very strange way, didn't bother Alexander. They seemed more inclined to reserve their anger for the xenos...
Or rather, to leave Alexander for someone else.
A two-handed Chainsword roared as it slashed towards Alexander. Alexander suddenly raised his arm to block.
The Chainsword tore through the Body Clay wrapped around Alexander's arm, sending flesh-colored clay flying everywhere.
However, the Chainsword seemed to strike something hard, sparking a shower of fire.
Gabriel Seth let out a cry of surprise. He discovered that beneath the man's clay-like skin was a layer of silver metallic carapace.
Alexander had wrapped the Body Clay around his Phantom Thief DX Suit, creating a false layer of skin and flesh, and Seth had been fooled.
"Necron?" Seth, noticing the metallic part, let out an angry roar.
But then his reason told him that this metal was not Necron living metal, otherwise his Chainsword would not have only left a scratch.
"Iron Man?" Gabriel Seth immediately thought of another possibility.
"Do you believe me if I say I am the omnissiah?" Alexander asked with a sincere expression.
Looking at the face identical to Sanguinius, Gabriel Seth was stunned for a moment, instinctively somewhat believing the man's words.
Then he realized something was wrong.
"Who exactly are you? How dare you usurp Sanguinius' face?!"
Seth roared, flashing away to create distance from Alexander, then in the blink of an eye, he was at Alexander's side, his Blood Reaver Chainsword slashing at Alexander with unstoppable sharpness.
"Sanguinius himself isn't in a hurry, why are you?!"
Alexander suddenly stretched out his hand, and a plastic toy dagger, emitting golden glimmers, stabbed out.
This dagger, as if it had a soul of its own, precisely and skillfully blocked Gabriel Seth's Blood Reaver.
"I am in a hurry! Why wouldn't I be in a hurry!" Sanguinius complained loudly.
Seth seemed to hear Sanguinius' complaint, and the Blood Reaver in his hand suddenly began to roar and spin.
He wielded this two-handed greatsword with the agility of a gymnast twirling a ribbon.
The greatsword instantly transformed into streaks of sharp blood-red light, slashing towards Alexander.
But the Denkōmaru in Alexander's hand had just had its charging device changed and was fully charged.
The children's toy from the 22nd century instantly saw through Seth's swordsmanship, blocking his attack with a delicate technique that even Seth had to marvel at.
"Gabriel Seth."
"I am your ally, not your enemy."
Alexander roared at Gabriel Seth, his mind quickly recalling the life of this Chapter Master of the Flesh Tearers:
"I am here to ensure Commander Dante's plan is realized, I am your helper!"
"Think about why you are here? Do you crave anger or the honor Sanguinius once bestowed upon the Ninth Legion? Do you crave slaughter or respect?"
"Do you still remember the disgust in the Space Wolves' eyes when they looked at you, do you still remember the Battle Sisters' disdain for you?"
"Do you want the Flesh Tearers to die with the name of butchers, to disappear from the galaxy, reviled?"
"Are you a raging angel, or a mad beast?"
The Chainsword in Gabriel Seth's hand paused involuntarily.
The few words Alexander had just spoken struck directly at Gabriel Seth's sore spot.
Gabriel Seth still remembered the looks the Space Wolves and Battle Sisters gave them; there was only disgust in those eyes.
If one didn't know Gabriel Seth's life, they would never utter such soul-crushing words.
"I will do what I must do!!!" Seth roared in response: "It's not for you, a person of unknown identity, to reprimand me!"
Alexander knew that Seth also had doubts, otherwise he wouldn't have ordered all the Flesh Tearers to deal with the distant Tyranid swarm, while he himself conversed with Alexander.
Just a little more, and Alexander would gain Gabriel Seth's trust; this Chapter Master had a beast-like intuition.
"Cough, cough, cough."
Alexander cleared his throat:
"Robert Guilliman, Strategist Guilliman, Warrior Guilliman."
"History will remember the Primarch of the Ultramarines by many names, but for us Blood Angels—"
"There is only one name to remember him by: Butcher Guilliman!"
"With laws and edicts, Guilliman tore apart the heart of the Legions, and not even his own sons were spared."
"Horus used a hammer, Guilliman used the blade of the statesman; the result was the same in the end."
As Alexander recited, Seth's expression stiffened slightly. He knew what Alexander was reciting.
This passage was considered blasphemous in the Imperium; calling a Primarch a butcher was a great sin, and if the Ultramarines knew, it would surely invite retaliation.
But Seth wasn't hearing this passage for the first time. He knew Alexander was reciting words once spoken by Nasir Amit, the first Chapter Master of the Flesh Tearers, recorded in the Flesh Tearers Chapter's secret archives.
This should not be known by anyone outside the Chapter!
"Brothers became cousins, cousins became exiles."
"Guilliman's new Chapters, his new beginning, were a tearing apart of all that came before."
Alexander stared at the moved Seth, a slight smile on his face.
As expected, the Flesh Tearers' aversion to Guilliman was practically ingrained in their genes.
He continued: "Without honor, without devotion, without history, without action."
"We are just a bunch of bastards without war and victory, we are no longer angels." Seth finished the last sentence for Alexander.
"No." Sanguinius said calmly: "You are still angels, my sons, remember honor and hope, do not succumb to anger and madness."
"No." Alexander repeated softly: "You are still angels, sons of Sanguinius, remember honor and hope, do not succumb to anger and madness."
Seth looked at Alexander for a while, seeming to trust him a little now.
Even his helmetless face showed a somewhat moved expression.
They could die as raging angels, not as mad beasts.
Sure enough, just by cursing Guilliman, one could get along well with the Flesh Tearers. Alexander couldn't help but inwardly grumble.
Just then, in the distance on the battlefield, a gray-yellow thick fog suddenly began to surge.
Seth's superhuman senses vaguely detected danger.
"Toxic Tyranid." Alexander said softly, looking at Seth beside him: "Stop playing around, quickly put on your helmet."
Feeling a bit better today, but still uncomfortable.
A strange meme came to mind in a half-dream state.
"Angron became an idiot later in life, but Lorgar was born an idiot."
"Horus became an idiot later in life, but Lorgar was born an idiot."
"Leman Russ became a barbarian later in life, but Lion El'Jonson was born a barbarian."
"Horus became a traitor later in life, but Guilliman was born a traitor."
A hurricane howled at the top of the Mechanical Spire, turning the scarlet sky a dark grey.
Mephiston looked at the sky wearily. It was truly astonishing.
If he had enough stamina, he could also create such a sky-altering hurricane given some time.
But to suddenly appear deep within enemy lines like that man, and instantly unleash such an unstoppable storm—
This was a difficult feat even for Mephiston.
Especially when there were psyker units on the opposing side, shrouded in a Warp Shadow, which would hinder teleportation itself.
Yet, that man seemed unaffected. What technology did his 'door' use, exactly?
The Warp? The Webway? A gravity well? None of them quite fit.
Mephiston couldn't figure it out at the moment.
"Roar!!!!"
A beast's roar echoed, and a Tyranid Behemoth Executioner charged, roaring, towards the formation of Blood Angels.
The first line of Terminator warriors quickly engaged, while the Saint Blood Guard behind them immediately raised their weapons.
Mephiston raised a finger.
A bolt of lightning, thicker than a man, shot out, its scorching Warp energy directly piercing the Executioner's body, leaving a hideous blood-hole.
"We must be fast," Mephiston said in a low voice.
He was indeed too tired; the consumption from fighting the hive mind was too great, and the psychic lightning he unleashed failed to kill the Executioner in one blow.
The Terminator and Saint Blood Guard warriors seemed accustomed to their Chief Librarian's absurd psychic power and swiftly ended the Executioner's life.
"Mephiston, you need to rest," Dante said, watching the scene and patting Mephiston's shoulder.
"My Lord, but we must also hurry," Mephiston said, staring at the great door of the Thinker Spire before them.
Through here, they could enter the Mechanical Spire, find the control console within, and manipulate the magnificent prism to unleash its scorching light.
Of course, the Blood Angels were not the only ones in action.
Mephiston glanced at the Deathmark Assassins, who thought no one could detect them.
These Xenos hid in a Pocket Dimension, believing themselves unseen.
Did Anrakyr the Traveller and Dante trust each other? Of course not.
Both the Necrons and the Blood Angels suspected and were wary of each other.
It was precisely for this reason that Anrakyr the Traveller's Deathmark Assassins silently followed alongside the Blood Angels' contingent.
Should the Blood Angels betray them or act against his interests, the Deathmark Assassins' neural shredders would be pointed at them.
This was also why Dante wanted Mephiston to conserve his strength, for he knew that only Mephiston could stop such a thing when the time came.
The Necrons and Blood Angels split into two teams.
The Blood Angels were to proceed from the Thinker's Gate, entering the Mechanical Spire from above.
The Necrons, on the other hand, would enter the Lower Nest, bypass the Tyranid's frontal defenses, and enter the Mechanical Spire from below.
Dante and Anrakyr the Traveller both understood that whoever entered the Mechanical Spire first and gained control of the magnificent prism would hold the initiative.
Dante's Mortalis Axe swung at high speed, and he led the Saint Blood Guards, soaring like eagles, slaughtering the Tyranid formations that intercepted them. The Terminator Guards' defensive line advanced like sturdy tank armor, pushing forward inch by inch through the Tyranid sea.
As Mephiston, the powerful psyker, withdrew from the battle, Reyna began to manipulate her psychic powers to take his place.
Of course, Reyna's psychic power was far weaker.
"Lightning!!!"
Reyna roared loudly, and a wrist-thick bolt of psychic lightning shot towards a nearby Tyranid Warrior.
However, the Warrior heard Reyna's roar and dodged with its agile reaction speed.
Mephiston, watching Reyna use her psychic powers from the side, barely managed to suppress a sigh.
This unauthorized psyker' use of psychic power was too crude, even needing to rely on sound for assistance.
However, her psychic power also seemed a bit peculiar; it didn't appear to be entirely natural, but rather partly derived from external infusion.
This external infusion greatly enhanced her psychic power, and with rigorous training...
Mephiston glanced at Reyna.
Too bad she was a female.
If he were a male... Although a bit old, the Blood Angels' modification surgery was relatively less picky, and the success rate was still decent. After being transformed into an Astartes, he could become an excellent Librarians.
But alas, she was a female. There was nothing to be done; the Emperor never designed female Astartes.
Mephiston shook his head somewhat helplessly, his attention on Reyna dropping sharply.
However, the Battle Sister and Cadian Shock Troopers also seemed to have ideas about recruiting her.
"Guide your psychic power with your instincts, not your voice."
"But when utilizing psychic power, use knowledge and wisdom, not roars and impulses."
Mephiston, seeing Reyna's crude psychic techniques, still offered a few words of guidance.
Reyna nodded blankly, but a few words of guidance wouldn't be of much use in the short term.
She understood the principles, but what exactly were knowledge and wisdom?
Just then, a sharp whooshing sound suddenly echoed in Reyna's ears.
A strong, powerful hurricane suddenly pressed down upon the battlefield. For a moment, Reyna thought Alexander had returned with his Pocket Tornado.
But when Reyna turned her head to look in the direction from which the hurricane howled, her eyes widened involuntarily.
Before Commander Dante, who held the Mortalis Axe, a massive winged shadow descended from the clouds, spreading its hideous wings.
The fierce wind howled, buffeting Commander Dante's golden power armor with a crackling sound.
Commander Dante's golden hair, streaked with white, moved with the wind. His face, wearing the Sanguinius golden mask, lifted slightly, gazing at the Tyranid Behemoth descending from the sky.
That was a Tyranid hive Tyrant, a winged subspecies of the Tyrant, specialized for flight.
The hive Tyrant used it to fight the sons of the Angel.
Anrakyr felt shame, felt his honor insulted.
He had deployed Deathmark Assassins near Dante.
Damn it, damn Zalathusa, he had shamed the honor of an Overlord.
Using Deathmark Assassins was dishonorable, especially against someone equally noble.
Though he wouldn't admit it aloud, Anrakyr knew of Lord Dante's nobility; he was an honorable and respectable man, even if he was just a human.
But those Deathmark Assassins did not belong to Anrakyr; they were the troops of Zalathusa, the Overlord of the Mephrit Dynasty in the Netherworld Star System, who called himself the "Unspeakable One," and his forces were known as the Silent Blades.
Anrakyr couldn't help but recall his meeting with Zalathusa.
Zalathusa awoke from his slumber, his orange-glowing body slowly rising. He struck a pose before Anrakyr, feigning a yawn.
"Please address me as the Great and Noble Unspeakable One, honored Traveller," he said, looking at Anrakyr with orange-yellow eyes.
Anrakyr nodded slightly, "Understood, Zalathusa."
Then Anrakyr saw an inexplicable fury in Zalathusa's glittering eyes.
Why had this person suddenly become angry? Anrakyr was baffled at the time.
Recalling it now, he might have truly gone mad and deranged during his long slumber. Otherwise, why would he show such inexplicable anger and forget his honor?
Anrakyr's thoughts became increasingly muddled.
For some reason, ever since arriving in the Netherworld Star System, he always felt his thoughts and emotions had become somewhat more active, as if he was very adapted to the environment of this star system.
He even had a strange feeling, as if something was slowly growing, slowly lighting up within his metallic body.
How peculiar.
But soon, the sounds of battle drove away Anrakyr's thoughts.
His Necron Warriors formed an island of steel, advancing through the dense Tyranid in the Lower Nest area.
Anrakyr's subordinates wove nets of Gauss flayer beams and Tesla lightning, turning thousands of Hormagaunt, Termagaunt, and Gargoyles into ash.
Occasionally, more elite Tyranid Warriors would charge before Anrakyr.
At such times, Anrakyr would swing his war scythe, taking the life of this node-creature.
However, the Tyranid's resistance was so strong; in this chitinous ocean, even the Necrons were falling.
From afar, Anrakyr's forces looked like metal soap slowly dissolving in the Tyranid sea, melting and bubbling away little by little.
Anrakyr felt anxious about this, and what made him most anxious was—
He seemed to be lost.
The Tyranid sea was too vast and dense; he could only roughly control his direction and seemed to have missed the designated rendezvous point.
This made Anrakyr feel embarrassed and ashamed. He wished he had let that human female who was responsible for guiding them follow his side.
Anrakyr recalibrated his direction, heading towards the lower industrial zone.
Sharp, scythe-shaped claws tore through the air, swiftly ripping apart the Immortals standing at the forefront of the formation.
A beast's roar sounded; it was a Tyranid Behemoth with two scythe-claws, a Tyranid hive Tyrant.
Its physique far surpassed that of a Necron Overlord; Anrakyr even seemed a little small before it.
The beast's scythe-claws slashed at Anrakyr.
Anrakyr's war scythe, crackling with energy, collided with it.
Just a Tyrant?
Anrakyr felt a little disappointed.
General against general, king against king, Overlord against Overlord—that was honorable.
Anrakyr would have preferred to face a Tyranid Overlord, rather than a slightly lesser hive Tyrant.
"Never mind, this is still somewhat even," Anrakyr shook his head.
The Mephrit Dynasty warriors tried to stand before the Tyrant, shielding Anrakyr from harm.
But Anrakyr refused them. This was a battle he would win alone.
A battle between an Overlord and a Tyrant.
Anrakyr's war scythe seemed to sense its master's emotions, its energy field suddenly brightening, as if it were a living thing feeling joy.
Anrakyr and this giant beast collided.
I'm thinking about what to give you guys as a prize after this volume is finished.
Anrakyr the Traveller / Dante / High Sister Battle Sister / hive Tyrant, which one do you like? All are author's rough sketch versions.
In the 40th Millennium of mankind, in this wondrous place, if an Astartes dared to go into battle without a helmet, then he was, nine times out of ten, a living powerhouse.
If you happened to be his opponent, it was best to prepare yourself mentally in advance.
Of course, this didn't mean that those wearing helmets weren't powerhouses. If he wore a skull helmet, a golden mask, red-gold rabbit ears, or a purple-grey hood, then it was best to prepare for a very gruesome death.
Gabriel Seth, the Chapter Master of the Flesh Tearers, was one such powerhouse who went without a helmet. His head, exposed to the air and the battlefield, allowed him to better vent his rage, feel the thrill of slaughter, and bathe in the blood of humanity's enemies.
But if one noticed the enemy clearly using toxins and still insisted on not wearing a helmet, that wasn't a powerhouse but an idiot.
Seth could even tolerate being called a madman or a barbarian, but he would never allow himself to be considered an idiot.
He donned his dark red helmet and looked through the visor at the figure beside him, who bore the face of Sanguinius.
That face was so divine, as if Sanguinius himself were truly alive, that for a moment Seth mistakenly believed the Archangel had returned to the mortal realm. Faintly, he seemed to hear the trembling of angelic wings.
And his words—he seemed to know the Flesh Tearers extremely well, even knowing the words of the first Chapter Master's sharp critique of the Ultramarines Primarch, Guilliman.
Finally, there were the words he spoke. They were precisely the kind of words Sanguinius himself would utter.
The moment he heard those words, Seth felt a tremor on both a soul and genetic level. A strange emotion welled up, and even the madness and rage within him were suppressed somewhat.
For this face, for the faint sound of wings in his ears, for his words and the current situation, Seth decided to tolerate and trust him for now.
"The fellow who doesn't want to show his face."
Seth glanced at Alexander, speaking in a not-so-polite tone:
"In the name of the Blood of Sanguinius, if you deceive or betray me, I will make you pay the price and feel fear."
"You will learn that a furious Archangel is more terrifying than a frenzied beast."
After uttering the threat, Seth's tone softened slightly, as if unwilling to show too much anger towards the face of Sanguinius:
"Be careful of that strange yellow mist."
Seth watched the grey-yellow mist continuously spreading across the battlefield.
The mist seemed alive, quickly enveloping the Tyranid, making their forms indistinct.
Even the most skilled warriors under Seth found it difficult to shoot through such a thick wall of fog, and even if they occasionally hit, the warriors couldn't confirm the death of their targets.
"Perhaps some people think we are barbarians, but even among barbarians, there are scholars."
Seth said in a serious and earnest tone:
"I suspect this might be a Venomthrope."
Alexander smiled slightly, indeed, it was much like he had guessed.
Sanguinius' sons, facing the face he wore, might be astonished and bewildered, and perhaps even suspicious, but they would absolutely not feel excessive anger.
They would even unconsciously rein in their own anger, almost instinctively behaving closer to what Sanguinius had once hoped for in front of this face.
This was because the face Alexander currently wore was created under the guidance of Sanguinius, theoretically an almost perfect replica of Sanguinius' visage.
And Sanguinius' visage was almost etched into the very souls and genes of the Blood Angels.
"A so-called Venomthrope is…" Seth hesitated, then began to speak.
Alexander watched Seth about to explain in detail what a Venomthrope was and gently raised a finger to interrupt him: "I know."
"…Oh." Seth's face was hidden beneath his helmet; Alexander couldn't see his expression.
Just then, the sound of roaring flames erupted. High Sister Magda, equipped with a jump pack, leaped up and flew to Alexander and Seth's side.
Alexander noticed that High Sister Magda had also donned her full power armor, prepared for gas defense.
She glanced at Seth, then her gaze lingered on Alexander for a moment, quickly realizing that the two had reached a consensus.
Not an enemy… A flicker of doubt and speculation crossed High Sister Magda's eyes…
"I suspect the source of those poisonous mists might be…" Seth suddenly began to say.
"Venomthropes, right?" High Sister Magda nodded and said, "The gas sacs on the backs of these Tyranid creatures secrete highly toxic spore gas. These gases are also highly active and can penetrate the smallest gaps in armor, dissolving people into a puddle of pus and foam."
These were all contents Alexander had written in the book, "an ogryn's guide to Tyranid biology."
Seth stiffened slightly, then nodded.
Alexander probably guessed that Seth wanted to appear a bit more scholarly, to lessen the image of the Flesh Tearers as barbarians.
Unfortunately, High Sister Magda already knew, and Alexander had known this information since his last life.
Seth didn't dwell on such minor matters. Looking at the increasingly approaching yellowish spore mist that had almost engulfed the entire Tyranid, Seth's expression grew slightly serious.
"Bolters." Seth issued his command concisely and forcefully through the comm channel.
The flashes of bolter fire immediately lit up the battlefield. Bolters fired .75-inch bolter rounds filled with a large amount of explosives.
Every bolter round that shot into the dim mist triggered a dazzling small explosion, briefly illuminating the surroundings, vaguely exposing the Tyranid forms in the air. At the same time, the splashing explosions also compensated to some extent for the difficulty of aiming.
Bang!!!
Roaring bio-projectiles shot out from the grey-yellow mist, followed by bio-plasma and putrid toxins.
The Tyranid also began to retaliate.
Due to the cover of the mist, the Battle Sisters and Flesh Tearers on the front lines had no time to dodge.
They wielded their weapons, sought cover, or charged forward despite the incoming barrage.
Most of their power armor consequently sustained small cuts, but these wounds were not yet enough to impair the power armor's function.
Just then, the yellowish mist surged like a living entity towards the warriors on the front lines.
The spore mist seemed to be alive, infiltrating the smallest gaps, dissolving and tearing ceramite, ripping open fissures large enough for them to pour in.
"Ah ah ah ah ah ah!!!!"
Seth watched with his own eyes as one of his Flesh Tearers brothers let out a painful roar. This potent spore toxin was simply irresistible to ordinary beings.
Even the Astartes' flesh, upon contact with the gas, immediately frothed with blood.
And the Battle Sisters were directly dissolved into a viscous puddle of pus and foam, pouring out of their power armor, clutching their throats as they fell to the ground.
What made Seth feel even worse was that some Space Marines roared and broke away from their lines, and in the last moments before leaving, they seemed to vaguely grow sharp fangs that reeked of blood.
The war had just begun, and some Flesh Tearers were already entangled in the Red Thirst.
The Venomthropes hiding in the toxic gas must be cleared before…
Seth gripped his Blooddrinker, his eyes blazing with furious fire, about to charge into the mist-shrouded gas.
"Venomthropes." A voice suddenly sounded from behind Seth.
However, before he could charge in, a scorching laser heat stream surged from behind him.
Nearly a hundred laser beams converged, instantly shooting into the toxic mist, briefly illuminating it.
"Roar!!!"
A beast's roar echoed. A serpentine Tyranid creature, twisting its body and suspended in the air, with distorted tentacles and toxic gas sacs on its back, was exposed. The scorching laser torrent instantly pierced its body, leaving charred burn marks.
Venomthropes were indeed terrifying battlefield weapons, but their weakness was their fragile bodies.
If discovered in the pervasive mist, they could be easily killed.
Alexander slowly picked up the anywhere door from the ground, watching the grey-yellow mist in front of him thin out a bit.
There were other Venomthropes in there.
"You—" Seth turned his head in confusion, but before he could speak, Alexander's voice interrupted him.
"Venomthropes." Alexander said softly.
The anywhere door in his hand fell again, pointing in a direction within the grey-yellow mist.
A torrent of laser fire struck, and a Venomthrope let out a wail and fell.
"Venomthropes!" "Venomthropes!" "Venomthropes!"
Alexander repeated this until the spore gas on the battlefield became almost invisibly thin.
Then, under the bewildered gazes of Gabriel Seth and High Sister Magda, Alexander pulled out an anywhere door from his four-dimensional pocket.
"It's done. The remaining Tyranid are yours."
Alexander nodded to Seth and High Sister Magda. Before the two could react, Alexander's figure had already vanished from the battlefield.
Without the Venomthropes, the Flesh Tearers and Battle Sisters were sufficient to counter the remaining Tyranid. Relying on the fortress-monastery's shields, they would also be able to protect the crawler vehicles serving as stellar energy relays.
At the same time, amidst the clouds of Ashford, a terrifying creature named the Flying Tyranid Tyrant was clashing with Dante. Sharp bone blades intersected and collided with the axe in Dante's hand, sparking sharp flashes of light.
This was not merely a clash of martial arts, but also a clash of flying techniques.
Even without the Archangel's natural wings, Dante could still achieve a period of flight using his jump pack…
He held his breath, performing one difficult maneuver after another in the air with the Tyranid Flying Tyrant. The constant crashing sounds of their exchanges were like thunder.
"Hoo…" Dante took a few shallow breaths, then abruptly changed direction, diving towards the massive bio-mass lake on the ground. His jump pack almost shut down.
The Tyranid Flying Tyrant, meanwhile, sharply twisted its body, contorting itself at a speed beyond physical imagination, almost pouncing on Dante.