Desire for flesh, thirst for blood, it will enjoy this feast, it will taste blood and bite bones.
Its claws will feel the despair from the torn body.
The desire is always there.
Needs, desires.
Never responded to, never satisfied.
How could they be satisfied? They are the essence of the warp and the essence of monster existence.
Passion is so fascinating.
The feast will begin on this planet, where the barrier between the physical universe and the Warp is thin and getting thinner.
The physical world squeezes them, desire and frustration appear with each other, intertwined, and turn into roars.
This roar sinks into the minds of those who long to hear it, giving them nightmares, bringing them madness, bringing them ecstasy, and bringing them the embrace of nothingness.
The barrier still exists, but it just exists.
Its consciousness penetrated in, and when it reached the land, it saw that the world was so beautiful, giving it a feast of plunder.
Its thoughts explored the world, crossed the jungles of endless night, soared over the mountains, and danced on the oceans.
The concept of home made it feel ridiculous all day long.
It will witness a planet being distorted under its influence.
But then it started to get restless.
This planet is just a stage, the actors have not yet appeared, but they will soon.
The beast waits behind the curtain, its time is coming.
It murmured praise for this.
A murmur echoed around it, its companions came here to compete, to worship here, to join in the carnival, for the moment they had longed for was about to come.
At that time, they can finally spread the desired ideas at will into a galaxy full of screams, eager to taste real flesh.
Whispers echoed each other, and desires gave birth to stronger desires, until the world reverberated with endless desires.
The promise has been fulfilled and the planet is right.
The demon beneath Pamphili's skin is examining the Archbishop's memories.
It stepped over the fallen altar while pacing back and forth, its four arms drawing various trajectories in the air, its posture lazy and graceful, summoning the coming fate, absorbing it and picking up the grimoire from Pamphili
The power I intended to use from that moment on.
From outside the cathedral walls, the demons heard the roar of the fleet in orbit around the planet—the enemy had arrived.
The moment it was looking forward to was approaching, which made it smile expectantly.
In its belly, a mouth that was once Pamphili's was moving, rattling with praise and joy unconsciously.
What was originally called Pomphyry stretched across twisted bones and skin, experiencing pain so complete and perfect that it craved pain as much as it craved pleasure.
All the illusions the Archbishop had originally held disappeared along with his identity, but the desire that drove him to destruction remained, and he rejoiced in a pain that was both punishment and reward.
Or it can be said that Pamphilly's soul disappeared and was devoured by the devil.
It devoured him, and now it's looking for the spoils.
The time has come, and it already knows what happiness it will bring to those indifferent and ignorant people, but it will never underestimate its enemy.
It predicts not only the death of humans, but also pursues other pleasures. It hopes that Pamphili's memory can bring these pleasures, so it searches over and over again in the memory of the archbishop.
Finally, it found what it wanted deep in Pangfili's heart, buried under layers of worldly memories.
This memory is small and easily overlooked because its owner has almost forgotten it.
Pamphili never had reason to pay attention to this knowledge, which was obscured by administrative trivia.
But the demon found them, and there was more to the memories than he bargained for.
It chuckled happily -
The time has come.
The heavy rain outside had stopped, and the Astra Militarum finally gave up on the dilapidated castle and retreated to the Ministry of Justice's fortress under the cover of the Space Marines.
After coordinated operations, only about 6,000 of the more than 10,000 Astra Militarum troops returned to the safe zone.
And among these more than 6,000 people, in Soshyan's opinion, there will be no more than 3,000 people who can continue fighting.
Although many people were not injured, they had suffered serious psychological damage, and a few of them had even begun to show signs of mental disorder.
The originally empty prison of the Ministry of Justice was quickly filled.
Now the entire fortress is in a state of war, and the heresy signs on the wall in the central hall have disappeared, replaced by a huge battlefield display.
Wearing the red and black military uniform that symbolizes the political commissar, Yarrick walked with a firm step that carried all the hope on this planet.
He still maintains a strong sense of self-esteem even in crisis.
At this point, Soshyan felt that he was so similar to himself.
The once young political commissar, in just a few years, his face already looked weathered and covered with tiny scars.
The shape of his eyebrows and chin seemed harsher and more unforgiving than in the past.
Soshiyang believed that he was very suitable for his current position. At the moment when Daxia was about to collapse, he was able to turn the tide and unite the last imperial armed force. He could no longer be described as fulfilling his duties.
If it weren't for the fact that he was a political commissar, and Soshyan even considered whether to include him among the mortal troops of the Chapter, he would have been an extremely good field commander.
Unlike the bishop who sits in the cathedral waiting for corruption, he is the pride of the empire.
Soshyan also saw the heroic spirit of those unyielding mortals, and felt sorry for the death they were about to face.
But their endings are almost impossible to change.
All surviving Astra Militarum have been exposed to too much forbidden knowledge, which has led them to destruction more completely than the daemon invasion itself. He is not an Inquisitor, but he has some knowledge of the rules of the Inquisition.
No inquisitor present would allow these people to leave Valedo alive.
Maybe the destruction will not come too soon, but in any case, for the Imperial soldiers who are still alive, their ending will not change.
Originally Soshyan had no power to change this.
But now, he saw loyalty and bravery in this hall.
Maybe he doesn't have the power to save everyone, but he can at least save some of them.
"Is everyone here? It seems I'm late."
A relaxed voice sounded, and then the limping Inquisitor Marcus walked out from the side. Four of his followers were also beside him. Except for Malthus, all of them were in glory.
Soshyan also didn't expect that the orbital bombardment almost killed an Imperial Inquisitor. Fortunately, he noticed that there were other battles nearby during the battle, and after Malthus found him, he jumped into the pit as soon as possible.
Drag this inquisitor out of the clutches of the devil.
If he had been slow for a while, he might have had to kill the inquisitor and the demon together.
Afterwards, Marcus was very grateful for his life-saving grace.