On the snowy peak not far from the Expeditionary Force, an anywhere door opened, and Alexander stepped out quickly, gazing at the distant Mountain of the Old Woman.
The Black Legion was clashing with the Expeditionary Force on the mountainside, and Belisarius Cawl was fighting in the constantly diminishing battle, striving for a goal that seemed increasingly unattainable.
Saint Celestine was engaging Abaddon; if her resurrection ability was excluded, this Saint would hardly be a match for Abaddon in a single exchange.
Reyna was also leading the Cadian 184th Regiment to resist the assault of the Gasterling Terminators, but the Cadia 184th Regiment were ultimately mortals; how could they withstand the ancient veteran warriors of the Black Legion?
The battle at the foot of the mountain was equally fierce; Alexander had just brought reinforcements to Captain Karlaen.
Nearly a thousand Blood Angels were occupying the Eldar's former fortress, resisting the vast army of the Black Legion.
Teleportation technology could only transport a limited number of troops, so most of the Black Legion warriors still had to reach Krasus by physical means.
And the Eldar fortress, occupied by nearly a thousand Blood Angels, became an insurmountable obstacle for them.
Then Alexander's gaze turned towards the summit of the mountain.
On the peak of the Mountain of the Old Woman, there was a ruined structure, its remnants filled with the delicate and elegant style of the Eldar, carved with various mysterious runes and images.
It was a Webway gate.
Just then, the Webway gate erupted with light; streams of Psyker fire roared over the ancient structure, and the Webway gate, dormant for tens of thousands of years, hummed between the Warp and reality.
The Webway gate opened, and a series of creatures, dressed in elaborate attire, as slender as snow elves, emerged from it.
Among this alien army, some were dressed like pirates, some like clowns, and others like elegantly dressed warriors in luxurious clothing.
Their leader was a woman in a long dress, with snow-white hair, holding a silver-blue bone sword.
Beside the woman stood a swordsman in crimson armor.
Eldar, Death Guard.
"They're finally here," Alexander murmured, taking out Denkōmaru from his four-dimensional pocket, and stepped into the anywhere door.
The air solidified instantly; everyone looked with disbelief between Reyna and Abaddon.
A mortal man suddenly appeared, blocking Abaddon's Demon Sword Drach'nyen with just a plastic toy sword.
"Alexander!!" Reyna shouted, excited yet not surprised, as if a great weight had been lifted from her.
"Who is that?!" Inquisitor Greyfax asked, astonished by the scene.
Belisarius Cawl vaguely sensed that the machine spirit nearby seemed to be becoming agitated.
And among the warriors of the Cadia 184th Regiment, those ruffians from Ashford hive city, a fervent cheer erupted.
"It's Boss Alexander! Boss Alexander is here to save us!"
"So the hope and salvation Saint Celestine spoke of was Boss Alexander!"
"Quack! Boss Alexander, quickly beat up Abaddon! Let him know the might of Saint Doraemon!"
"By Sanguinius, Boss Alexander is surely going to capture Abaddon and bring him back to the hive city to be a Star Fury!"
"As long as Boss Alexander activates those miraculous gadgets, everything will be fine!"
"By Saint Doraemon!"
Many of these warriors had fought alongside Alexander, even witnessing him sprout wings like Sanguinius and slay brainbugs.
Moreover, on the way to Cadia, Reyna had told them all of Alexander's aliases.
Leman Russ, Neoth, Saint Doraemon.
Abaddon fiercely withdrew Demon Sword Drach'nyen, looking at the Demon Sword with anger.
Although drach'nyen had taken the form of a sword for Abaddon to use, Abaddon could not truly command drach'nyen; how much power it exerted was entirely up to drach'nyen itself.
But even so, drach'nyen shouldn't be so perfunctory with him, Abaddon, should it??
A mortal, holding a toy sword, blocked the great demon drach'nyen, born from a murder in humanity's history??
However, a confused emotion emanated from the Demon Sword.
drach'nyen admitted that he usually didn't exert much effort, but the power he had just used was no different from usual.
He also questioned whether it was Abaddon's problem, sarcastically asking if Abaddon had been abandoned by the Four Gods.
Abaddon was first confused, then his expression darkened slightly.
If it wasn't drach'nyen's problem, and it wasn't his own problem, then it could only be that this mortal in front of him had a problem.
Abaddon took a fierce step towards the mortal in front of him, raising drach'nyen high in his hand and bringing it down with a heavy swing.
A blasphemous arc, swirling with death, descended, and Sword of Light. Denkomaru in Alexander's hand also drew an arc.
Demon Sword and toy sword collided, the dark blue of death clashing with the pale gold of lightning.
The sound of swords clashing echoed continuously across the snowy plain; Alexander's sword edge always blocked Abaddon's attacks with perfect precision, almost as if he were toying with Abaddon.
Abaddon felt a moment of daze.
He hadn't felt this way in countless years.
Who was the last person who could achieve such a level in swordsmanship?
Was it Sigismund? But even Sigismund couldn't always block drach'nyen's attacks with such perfect precision.
Watching the sword fight between Alexander and Abaddon, the entire snowy plain fell into a temporary silence.
Inquisitor Greyfax seized the opportunity, crushing the head of a Black Legionnaire with her Psyker powers, then quickly grabbed a warrior of the Cadia 184th Regiment.
"Who exactly is that man fighting Abaddon?"
Inquisitor Greyfax had noticed from the One Hundred and Eighty-Fourth Regiment's shouts that they knew that mortal named Alexander; he was from Ashford, just like the Cadia 184th Regiment.
"Inquisitor, madam?"
The warrior who was grabbed jumped in surprise, and upon hearing Inquisitor Greyfax's words, his face immediately showed a proud expression:
"That is our Under-hive governor of Ashford, the true boss of the Ark Gang.
The Destroyer of the Bottom Nest, the lifelong enemy of the genestealer, the shadow of the mutants.
The one Tyranids cannot defeat, the dark pocket that devours the Tyranids, the champion of the Cadia 184th Regiment.
The Sure-Hit Gun, the leader of the Dying-worshippers, the great Death-Chosen, the primal power, the eternal dragon.
The divine Saint Doraemon, Leman Russ, Neoth, Lord Alexander."
Inquisitor Greyfax looked at Alexander, who was fighting Abaddon, with a bit of confusion.
How strange.
Why did she only see one person?
The Ashford warrior from the Cadia 184th Regiment glanced at the somewhat confused Inquisitor Greyfax.
He immediately remembered Teacher Lager's instruction and knew it was time to leave.
The warrior quickly moved away from Inquisitor Greyfax and rejoined the battle.
"Are you even capable, you damn fool?"
"And you call yourself the Great Despoiler?"
"You might as well change your name to the Great Failure!"
"Damn it, a primitive man with a stone tool could fight better than you!"
Abaddon gritted his teeth, enduring the scolding of Demon Sword Drach'nyen.
drach'nyen clearly told Abaddon that the sword was just an ordinary toy sword, nothing special.
Its output of power hadn't decreased; not being able to win was definitely Abaddon's fault for being too weak!
Abaddon finally couldn't stand drach'nyen's mockery anymore, and in his mind, he said those words to drach'nyen.
"If you're so good, you do it!" Abaddon roared almost.
"I'll do it!" drach'nyen agreed without hesitation.
Then Abaddon felt the power of the Demon Sword in his hand suddenly strengthen, several times more powerful than before, and the power was still continuously rising.
He was shocked.
How much had drach'nyen been fooling him all this time? Was this its true power?
Then Abaddon felt a surge of guidance from drach'nyen, guiding his arm to start moving.
Abaddon's swordsmanship instantly became tricky and bizarre, filled with terrifying killing intent.
The first axe was for felling trees, the first spear for hunting beasts, the first dagger for skinning hides.
But a sword was different.
The first sword ever fashioned by humans from stone was to kill their own kind.
Abaddon saw it.
In a field of wheat, the first murder was taking place.
One human killed another, brother killed brother.
Abaddon let out a wild laugh; his body moved at an extremely fast speed, and the blade in his hand drew a bizarre sword arc that far exceeded what the material universe allowed.
The sword light was filled with pure killing intent.
drach'nyen, the death of humanity.
There was no human that drach'nyen could not kill.
"Die," Abaddon said to Alexander.
Then.
Sword of Light. Denkomaru in Alexander's hand also drew a strange arc, lightly blocking in front of drach'nyen, silently parrying the Demon Sword.
Abaddon looked at Demon Sword Drach'nyen in his hand, somewhat bewildered and embarrassed.
The human face on the sword also looked at Abaddon with embarrassment and confusion.
"If you're weak, practice more," Alexander said sincerely to Abaddon and Demon Sword Drach'nyen.
Abaddon's expression first twisted violently, then revealed uncontrollable rage.
Even more powerful energy surged from drach'nyen in his hand.
Clearly, drach'nyen hadn't been at full power just now.
But Abaddon was in no mood to complain about drach'nyen slacking off.
The man and the sword had never been so in agreement; both had the same goal — to hack this kid to death.
Then Alexander once again lightly parried Abaddon's attack, remaining completely unharmed.
Abaddon froze in place.
Alexander, meanwhile, looked relaxed.
And just then, Sword of Light. Denkomaru in Alexander's hand flickered a few times and turned gray.
"Out of power," Alexander murmured.
Abaddon heard these words and paused for a moment.
"Is it the sword's problem?" he growled, quickly swinging another sword at Alexander.
Just then, the four-dimensional pocket on Alexander's stomach suddenly expanded.