Chapter 351 Blood and Thunder
Geratos raised his power scepter high, and the crackling sound of the decomposing force field on it was drowned in the noisy shouts of the surrounding Shura battlefield.
Just as logically and suddenly as when he appeared here, the sounds, smells and sights hit him in the face like a tide that didn't reach above his head.
Various guns of the empire and aliens were fired back and forth on the battlefield, causing lightning, blood and thunder.
Laser weapons left their own straight lightning-like traces in the blood mist of shattered bodies, and the Space Marine's bolters fired like distant thunder when they fired and hit their targets. Moving explosions.
The roar of the chain saw teeth was accompanied by the high-pitched war cry of the Black Templar monks in the distance, and the vague and savage roar of the orcs seemed to be the lame timpani beat in this chaotic song.
Whether they are enemies or friendly forces, they are all fighting together in this muddy killing field of flesh and blood.
The Goats may have the heads of the noble Astartes under their feet, and the orc bosses are just the dead souls chopped into pieces by the swords one after another by the expeditionary forces.
The black ceramic boots crushed bones and trampled flesh and blood. The bone-white robe was splashed with red, yellow-white and pink dirt. Thick blood and minced meat viscera followed the roses wrapped around his arms. The rosary beads dripped down, but only his scarlet goggles, halo and priest's staff were still shining.
There was no fear or trembling of killing, only divine fervent passion and some completely primitive savage joy surging in his mind at the same time.
he chanted.
"Defend the Holy Land! For Dorne! For the revenge of the God-Emperor!"
The power scepter was smashed downwards with anger, grief and a sense of suffocation that came from nowhere.
You can attack in any direction, because there are enemies in any direction.
The first hammer blow shook the palm of his hand, just like smashing open an overripe watermelon. The golden power scepter smashed the head of an orc, causing pulp to splash everywhere.
The servo motors of the priest's power armor roared with sudden force, and Geratos turned around, strode forward, and waved his scepter like a metal club.
Then with the second blow, he smashed the back of the head of the orc who was beating a black templar, causing it to deflate completely, like a dirty green shell full of internal organs.
The third blow was chaotic. Geratos's scepter wings were stuck between the huge ribs of an orc. The priest roared and hit the other's head with his helmet until it turned into a puddle. of pulverized mixture. Blood flowed from the laurel crown of Geratos's helmet like a baptismal chalice, covering most of his black-armored body like a scarlet cloak.
Although Geratos was alone, he chopped and punched a path of flesh and blood among the group of aliens. The blood of the killed aliens evaporated into a layer on the surface of his black and white power armor. Steaming red mist.
But he undoubtedly arrived a little late.
When the priest finally advanced to the open space in front of the temple that was being defended by the people, he saw the mutilated body of a black temple brother with a chain of piety locked in his hands just falling in front of the beast wave.
The two chainswords connected at the end of his chain of piety have been completely filled with the flesh and bone of those hateful and endless aliens, and their serrated blades have been shattered by strong bone fragments. The tendons were stuck, so Atharion could barely wield them like two metal rods when wielding them with his sword - allowing him to take down one orc while being attacked by four. attack.
When Geratos, with hatred and noble fury, rescued his brother's body from the orcs who continued to rush towards him in dense numbers, the priest's eyes glanced at the ground again, and he saw Ah Who was Tarion trying to rescue just now: the fragments of the silver-white armor of the Sisters and the upper half of the beautiful girl's face had been frozen in a flesh and blood mask caused by severe pain and nostalgia for the world.
The flesh and blood on the other half of the girl's face has been torn, and there are clear tooth marks on the bones. The aliens and their ferocious mounts may be hungry.
He failed to save Atarion in time, but there must be others here, other brothers, other members of the Black Templars.
Geratos gripped his weapon and trudged through the hills of broken limbs, corpses, and streams of blood. Soon, he found traces of the target he was looking for.
The first and most conspicuous corpse he saw from a distance was undoubtedly that of one of the Emperor's champions. The broken black armor that still retains the mark of glory is an ancient finely crafted style familiar to the priest, and the champion's throat has been completely pierced by a rough-made but deadly orc spear, and his body has been trampled to the bone. But the black armor is still there.
The black sword gleamed on the ground in front of the dead champion's fingertips.
Then Geratos heard the stirring call of Hermit Grimaldus and witnessed the death of the second, third, and last champion in the expedition to take up the Black Sword.
Warm fluid flowed from the Chaplain's eyes, which had never shed tears of sorrow since the first day of his transformation into the Emperor's loyal Blade.
Geratos was forced to shout loudly by his rage, grief and knowing the outcome. One hammer after another. The decomposition force field generated by the power staff could hardly keep up with the speed of his attack. , slashed the orc in front of him with a ferocious attack, and hammered the next one's head directly into his chest with brute force. Then he twisted his waist, and the servo motor made an overwhelmed sound, supporting him with one last blow. The force is so strong that it almost makes the weapon bathe and drink the blood of alien aliens.
Yes, he already knows where this is.
This must be a miracle for the God Emperor, and sending him here is exactly his secret wish deep in his heart.
This is where he would die as the Emperor's Champion.
This is Armageddon.
That is the expedition that the Necessary Retribution was originally supposed to participate in.
He must go there...!
He is rushing to his brothers!
Geratos saw the bloody black figures remaining around the Hermit Master disappear one by one, until Grimaldus loudly bid farewell to the last comrade while killing the orcs - and then His head was severed right in front of Grimaldus.
He heard Grimaldus laughing crazily as he looked at the stone dome of the temple that was about to collapse and bury everyone. He laughed until he was out of breath. He laughed wildly and said that this was the inevitable retribution of these beasts!
Before those green-skinned beasts were buried with them.
“No!”
The priest desperately stretched out his hand toward the collapsed ruins of the temple——
At this time, he realized that he might only be in a time gap. Passenger, a witness.
A voice rang out from the bottom of his heart: This place was not yet the place where he should be martyred as the Emperor's Champion.
Not now, not here.
The dizzy feeling hit him again.
Geratos once again missed the mark.
He fell, and then he found himself in a gladiatorial arena, but not on the ground. The subtle artificial gravity from the starship and the weapons maintenance oil that filled the place, the smell of superhuman sweat, blood and saliva It made him feel strangely uneasy.
Then he saw the visionary figure seen by every Emperor's Champion.
He is also the saint enshrined in the shrines on the Eternal Crusade and every expeditionary monastery mothership.
Sigismund.
He saw Sigismund.
(End of this chapter)