chsdbacks Page 769
Page 769
Further away, behind Karas, a withered, winged deity appeared. The black hole released by the space necromancer was being squeezed by some strange, flickering psionic turbulence before disappearing.
[Kalas, (X66300, Y47400), the Psionic Titan Arrays are about to be teleported. You are responsible for receiving them and transporting them to the 3rd Battleground.]
People stood up again, like the undead in space, and those who had fought and killed each other collided again as if nothing had happened.
Of course, some people have died permanently.
The burial place where Kriegmead sought rest for the great sage's corpse still lay quietly. They had chosen their own path, and those who wholeheartedly accepted Hades' blessing were not protected by the other gods.
This is the source of their confidence in discriminating against other religious sects, the state religion, imperial truth, and atheists.
A new casting general has been appointed.
Yay, it's gone!
Chapter 789 Winning and then losing everything
"How can you sleep at your age?!"
Against a backdrop of a battle between a group of giant, silver-white spiders flashing with psionic energy,
Karas swung his staff at the Death Guard, who was panting and collapsed in the mud, and performed a cane-beating treatment.
His other hand wasn't idle either; he gathered his palm into an electric ball and immediately attacked the seemingly damned space overlord.
"My God! This is the first time I've ever seen someone who can continue to serve their master even after they're dead—and you don't even have the life left to be exploited!"
Karas exclaimed in amazement at the sullen-faced space tyrant, "Extreme foul language, simple enjoyment, it's that simple."
"Foolish fellow!"
Unlike ordinary space undead, space overlords retain a significant portion of their intelligence due to their class system. Some well-maintained space undead overlords even retain the same mindset as when they were alive.
It was clearly more magnificent and more agile than the overlords of its peripheral minor dynasties, its radiant light sweeping across the crown of the undead overlord.
The staff of light in its hand was as dazzling as a solar flare, directly dispelling the mist that was vaguely trying to cover the undead territory in space.
The Overlord looked at the psionic space marine three kehet* away from it. It sensed an aura distinctly different from that of other humans. The psionic who was cursing loudly was extremely dangerous.
(*Keht: an ancient Egyptian unit of length)
The radiance emanating from the human psionicists was even comparable to that of the weapons of the ancient saints.
This clearly surprised the Necromancer Overlord of Space. What surprised it even more was that the array of Seraphim Heavy Constructs was suppressed by the strange Titans of the Human Empire.
Although the Seraph Heavy Construct is smaller than the Psionic Titan, the devices equipped on it far surpass the current level of the Imperium of Man—not—?!
In the distance, the muzzle of the Annihilation Cannon on the shoulders of the arrayed psionic titans emitted a howl similar to the turbulence of warp space, followed by a sharp, daylight-like beam of light that shot out and leaped into the array of seraphim!
The crude vortex was torn apart, and amidst the vast difference in psionic concentration between the real world and the warp, the space overlord felt a scream of code creep up its core—
A seraph has fallen forever.
It was brutally torn in half, one half of its body falling into the subspace and disappearing without a trace, while the other half twitched on the ground with only three legs remaining.
The remaining Seraph was also severely injured and became the target of the psionic titans' concentrated fire.
Through the psionic sensor, the Necromancer of Space absurdly saw living psionic power banks screaming in agony inside the Titan, which was writhing and crackling with flashes of white lightning.
—Heretics, a race that has completely abandoned the way of martial arts!
As the overlord realized, the Death Mark hidden in the Pocket World also found a suitable sniping point at this moment, and a green snake tore through space!
"—Found it."
Karas, who was being targeted, deftly sidestepped, and the green light struck his feet, sparking on the ground.
Karas took a step to the side, and then disappeared completely, leaving only the ground that suddenly froze!
The light in the space necromancer's eyes flickered suddenly as it looked in astonishment into the void.
The seemingly heavy psychic floated in the air, holding the dim body of the Death Seal in his hand, with rust creeping up from the part where Karas's palm touched it.
“I admit you’re good at hiding, but not as good as Motalian when he was hiding official documents.”
A faint sound drifted down along with the rust fragments. Karas looked around; those who could be resurrected had already been resurrected, and a new batch of reinforcements had arrived—
"Hit me!"
Karas cursed, his staff already striking the head of the lich guard beside the Necromancer of the Space.
……
I hope you'll be careful with your words, Callas... at least I'm not avoiding you.
Mortarian's words disappeared into the radio waves, replaced only by Karas's furious curses.
The Primarch was somewhat displeased, but now was not the time for Mortarion to frown.
There are too many enemies.
Primarchs cannot stay on the same battlefield for too long; there are too many people who need to refuse death, and too much technology in places that need to be forcibly suppressed with psionic energy.
The technology of the Necromancers in space is very stable: Seraphs, monoliths, and those flat shadows that occasionally streak across the horizon...
These were issues that the military could not resolve, and Mortalian increasingly felt the importance of the Cult of Mechanism.
They must exist on this battlefield; only machines can fight against machines.
The psionic energy on the distant battlefield fluctuated violently once again, forcing Mortarian to abandon the current battlefield.
He flapped his wings as wide as he could, and wisps of scales fell with the white mist, enveloping the battlefield. Mortarion hoped his psionic powers could linger a little longer.
The black stone obelisk at the rear of the battlefield was resonating, having long been assimilated by Mortarion, and was emitting wisps of mist.
Even so, Mortarian felt a sense of rejection—
The reason came from the war zone where the psionic energy had just fluctuated; he saw something familiar, something the Primarch had seen in Tarasin's palm.
The hyperdimensional Rubik's Cube cage, and the star god fragments roaring within it.
The Silent King began releasing Star God fragments into the battlefield. Unlike those they had encountered before, the Star God fragments the Silent King brought out were much larger and in astonishing numbers than those Mortarion had seen before.
For some reason, Mortarian felt a tightness in his chest.
This means that the Silent King has considerable experience and powerful abilities in taming the Star Gods, which is not good news.
..............................
One day later
Hold this position!
Dorn roared, his Stormfangs slashing furiously at the burning energy being, the Celestial God. His eyes were like torches, and the flames of the Burner were transmitted through the chainsaw.
But Dorn did not back down or loosen his grip; the evil flames burned onto the Primarch's body, engulfing the entire Primarch almost instantly.
But he still didn't let go—the Primarch believed this attack would be fatal, so he would never back down.
The Golden Helmet Primarch had already swelled to a size similar to the Star God Burner Shard opposite him. Dorn roared, and the Burner Shard screamed in pain.
The Burner wanted to leave, but something on the Storm Fang held it back—a psionic force. It struggled against it.
Pain, pain! The flames around the Burner blazed fiercely, shooting straight into the sky.
The flames on Rogue Dorne intensified as a result, tearing at his flesh and armor with their blazing inferno.
The corpses and armor beneath the Primarch's feet had long been incinerated by the extreme heat, turning back into gas and evaporating in a dark, murky state.
If it were an ordinary person, or even another Primarch (except for Mortalian, who was equally stubbornly gifted in this regard), they might have already chosen another method.
But this is Roger Dorn!
The Primarch roared, the Burner cried out, and Dorn's voice grew even louder.
This place has turned into a screaming hell of burning flames, with two burning things emitting roars sharper than a boiling kettle.
If the green-skinned people were there, they would probably all get excited and shout "WAAAGH!"
The Burner Fragment seemed to be the first to give up, its flames began to flicker, and behind the Star God, the emerald green chain that "locked" it was tied to the Hyperdimensional Cube cage.
Beside the cage, the Necromancer Emperor of Space stood somewhat dazed, watching the scene of the Star God fragment confronting the Primarch.
They were probably stunned.
The two roaring fireballs illuminated the face of the Necromancer.
It has never seen an organic organism survive for more than three seconds in the flames of a burner.
But now there is.
On this battlefield, the warriors faced by the Necromancer Emperor are even more difficult to kill, as they have an extremely high tolerance for damage.
After suffering the same damage, the space undead composed of living metal were no longer able to fight, but these lemon-yellow creatures could continue to fight—
Conservative estimates suggest that these creatures would need to suffer at least four to six times more damage than their counterparts before they die completely.
Is this still human? Or is it due to individual differences between humans?
Unaware that the cage beside it emitted a tormented shriek followed by a sharp crack, the Necromancer Emperor was oblivious.
Like the rising sun, a radiant light shone in the center of the battlefield. The Burner fragments were shattered once more, exploding completely, blinding everything on the field for a moment.
The Necromancer Emperor of Space now holds two brand-new Hyperdimensional Cubes in his hands, within which fragments of the Nightbringer and the Crimson God are lamenting.
As it hurled this fragment, the Necromancer of Space caught a glimpse of the fleeting gold and silver hues in the air as the Burner shattered.
..............................
Two days later
[It's on fire! No burners—Tarachin!]
Conrad shrieked, and Primarch almost instinctively darted into the sparse shadows on the field. The Burner Shard that Tal Rashin had thrown was roaring as it charged straight toward the Void Dragon Shard thrown by the opposing Overlord.
"You've really stirred things up?!"
Tarachin scolded him with exasperation.
"Your front line is the only one in need of support! Look at Saint Gilles—he only has ten thousand more soldiers than you!"
Conrad hissed in dissatisfaction, but he had already flashed behind the overlord, the white light of the lightning claws sizzling as the Primarch lifted the head of the space necromancer.
[Those Sanguielles brats are all brand new! And the Mechanicus too!! Don't you see how many Mechanicus reinforcements that bastard has?!]
The towering brown tomb stood tall. The Primarch sensed something was wrong and retreated back into the darkness, watching as yet another Space Necromancer Emperor stepped onto the battlefield.
Why so many?!
Compared to his brothers, Conrad and Corax are finding it slightly more difficult to fight.
It's like sending those White Scar guys to fight on a plains front; it would be a miracle if they gained the upper hand!
But their brothers were all capable of holding the line alone, so splitting the two Primarchs between them would be redundant; therefore, Conrad and Corax were on the same front.
Anyway, they're quite happy with it.
The cooperation between the Midnight Lords and the Astral Army was not very good, so the Cult of Mechanics was not very willing to cooperate with them.
And so the great Tarachin arrived!
Tarasin decided to take more of the Midnight Lord's specialties from now on, but now was not the time for conflict; the pressure on the front lines was indeed quite high.
Guilliman had already prepared a plan: if Conrad and Corax struggled on the front lines, Magnus would be sent out.
[(X439000, Y20100), Tarasin, requesting support.]
The panting sound of Corax came from the channel. It looked like a ravages monster that had been thrown up and landed on a Seraphim whose fuel core had been blown out. Around it were the figures of three other Seraphims lying on the ground.
Corax looked across at him and saw the two released Star God fragments, the five giant stone monuments, and the scarlet green eyes that all turned to aim at him.
Corax gave a wry smile, but the next moment, raven feathers swirled, and the Lord of Shadows had already vanished into the shadows.
Hopefully, they won't be the first front to be defeated.
..............................
[Five days later]
A high-speed stream of particles pierced through the white wings, and the angel flying in the sky suddenly plummeted.
[Keep the queue!]
Saint Gilles shouted, his golden hair gleaming, but blood flowed from his crimson eyes, and sharp teeth bared at the corners of his mouth.
As the faith of the warriors around the battlefield and the shouts of the State Church's defenders grew, Saint Gilles was bathed in an even stronger golden light, his spear piercing the core of the megalith time and time again.