Chapter 1121 Bloody Revenge (Part 2)
Azrael stood motionless in the darkness, his eyes fixed on the heavy blast door at the end of the corridor, and the timing display floating on the edge of his peripheral vision flickered to zero.
The enemy attack begins.
Sappho was right, the enemy would attack after they captured the satrapy, and would fall on the outer walls with all the wrath of the false gods, and they would have to fight alone because there was no friendly cover around them.
The Supreme Master imagined the scene outside, imagining the enemy's army gathering in the shadows and tunnels, with their remaining vehicles spitting out foamy assault teams. As the shells exploded overhead, the assault troops Melta weapons and crackling thunder hammers will be used to complete the task, smashing an entrance into each of the major passages in the Governor's Lands.
At the moment, the black legion was like a swarm of furious locusts, tearing at him and others.
Because they knew they were about to fail and the empire had surrounded them.
The scene ahead has not changed, and the blast door is intact.
The only sounds Azriel could hear were the gentle scraping of his armor and the scrubbing of his respirator.
His muscles twitched, and he wanted to change his defensive posture. The urge to face the enemy head-on was almost overwhelming.
"The longer you wait, the more blood will be spilled."
Sappho calmly placed his hand on Azrael's shoulder pads. He understood the mood of the Supreme Master at this moment.
"This place will soon be soaked with blood."
Azrael nodded, the chief priest's words softening the call of violence in his mind like the summoning gong of an ancient arena.
Suddenly, a burst of superheated metal sparks erupted in the darkness, and countless tactical icons flashed across the monitor - he was ready to kill anything that came in through the blast door, and nothing else mattered.
The drizzle of sparks turned into a downpour as the Archenemy intensified its attack on the door, and a pulsating amber thread took center stage, bisecting the door in two from the floor.
"They're coming."
The cutting stopped, and the fuse hung in the darkness, glowing and rough like a fresh scar.
Silence filled the corridors, threatening to snatch away the last restraints of sanity.
Suddenly, a giant metal gauntlet shot through the center of the blast door, a pneumatic piston hissing and spitting out as the fingers flexed in search of something to tear apart.
The audio damper in Azriel's helmet filtered out the scream of metal as the hand reached back, grabbed the door, ripped it from its hinges, and dragged it away into the darkness.
After a moment, the hand and the heavy body it was attached to suddenly flashed past.
"It's the Hellbeast, Passage 1!"
Azrael warned, resisting the urge to fire with his gun.
Even explosive bombs against this kind of enemy are of no avail, they will only scratch the paint of the armor pressed against them. As a terrifying fusion of countless and technology, Hell Beast, even the Dark Angel, can't do anything without the help of heavy firepower. An enemy that cannot be stopped.
Soon the tall monster appeared in the hallway, stomping on the remains of the door, and opened fire.
“For Caliban!”
Waiting for the enemy to enter the predetermined distance, Azrael suddenly roared.
On the ceiling above him, a missile tube screamed, its ammunition firing at the hellbeast in a ball of flame.
The first missile hit the sarcophagus on the front of the Hellbeast and exploded, shattering its armor.
The second missile's secondary booster ignited moments later, driving a third-stage charge through the weakened armor plating and detonating against the front of the Hellbeast.
The flames engulfed the hellbeast, wrapping it like a shroud.
But it is not dead. The vitality of this subspace creation is much stronger than the ordinary fearless. Autocannon rounds tore through walls and ceilings as the hellbeasts continued to fire.
The rocket launcher fired again, firing another missile at the metal behemoth.
A sharp cry rang out from the hellbeast as Dauntless raised its claw-like arms in defense.
The main warhead of the missile hit the arm, blowing it into a piece of silver shrapnel and paralyzing it in place. The remaining warhead penetrated into the wall next to the hell beast and detonated with enough force. A large hole opened in the passage.
A creepy roar filled the corridor, and a group of warriors wearing blood armor swarmed from the side of the Hell Beast, rushing towards the direction of the Dark Angel.
Azrael stood up and strode forward. At the same time, the surrounding angels also activated flamethrowers and melt, bathing the enemy in liquid flames.
He saw clearly the true identities of these enemies, which made him even more angry——
"The Crimson Slayer's bastards!"
The Crimson Slayers ran through the flames, ignoring their bubbling armor and the flesh flowing from the flames.
Azriel's pistol began to flash in the darkness, firing a volley of bullets at the enemy.
Whenever he sees an enemy, a curse comes out of his mouth.
Their red armor appears to be a direct mockery of the Imperium, with the Dark Angels' breastplate adorned with the sacred Aquila and their pauldrons bearing the Chapter's emblem, while their enemy's armor is inlaid with Brass skulls and blasphemous runes.
"Kranon! Get out!"
In the narrow range of the corridor, it was impossible for the bullets to miss, and every shot of Azrael found its target.
He first shot the enemy directly in the chest, and then fired two more shots.
At such close range, even power armor offered little protection, with bullets blasting out of their backs in a hail of blood.
Sappho stood to Azrael's right, firing his Masterwork Bolter on full auto until the round counter flashed to zero.
But there is no time to reload, and the next enemy will pounce in just a moment.
“Azrael, get down!”
Hearing Sappho’s warning, Azriel decisively obeyed.
The next moment, the paralyzed hell beast opened fire again, launching a storm of shells into the corridor, the noise was deafening.
Several Dark Angels who were shooting were caught off guard. Their torsos instantly turned into flesh, and their limbs were severed by vicious attacks.
Azrael lay beneath the twitching body of his enemy, his pulse pounding, the smell of blood and charred flesh suffocating, blood dripping from around him and congealing into a thick, viscous pool of menacing To swallow him.
"Emperor, shape my thirst to your unyielding will."
With a final roar and the hellbeast's magazine empty, Azrael stood up and removed himself from the corpse. Shooting from cover.
The Crimson Slayers and their minions piled up like red-armored sandbags, yet they advanced, and then the Grand Master added two more abominations to the pile of dead bodies clogging the corridor.
The scent of promethium and charred flesh flooded Azrael as the enemy turned flamethrowers on their dead, burning a path to the Dark Angels.
As his pistol exhaled its last round, Azrael slung it back onto his thigh, gripping the Secret Sword in both hands.
“I am His revenge!”
(End of this chapter)