In his dim vision, Kangke saw a crack appearing in the air, as if he had been struck by lightning.
The old, lifeless air seemed to shimmer, as if a hot mist had suddenly appeared in its center.
Konko managed to activate his throne, the data link stretching across his loose skin, but it took time, and at the blast door beyond, all the armed guards were dead, their bodies scattered behind the open partitions.
Something was moving around them, shimmering.
They flew at a speed that the eye could barely follow, sweeping across the bridge and moving from one side of the console to the other like lightning.
Konko watched paralyzed with fear as the bridge staff seemed to be chopped into pieces by the flow of energy.
The limbs were separated, the throat was slit, and the chest was cut open.
Blood and screams filled the command deck.
Suddenly, the pain and screaming that tortured Konko seemed to have disappeared.
He panted, and his bony fingers fumbled for the station-wide alert button on the armrest of the throne.
"Seal the blast door!"
While he was yelling, no one was listening, and everything around him was in chaos.
The crew is being slaughtered.
When his vision became clear, those "lightnings" had turned into tall, slender shapes - they were wearing bone-white armor and strange masks, and their scarlet sideburns were flying behind their heads, as if they were splashing.
of blood.
These monstrous forms moved with speed and grace beyond human reach, desperately cutting into the desperate bridge crew with their meager swords and spears.
In just the blink of an eye, they had eliminated the safety assessment team and began attacking the deck officers, platform operators and ship analysts.
Seeing his subordinates being cut and dismembered, and the mechanical parts mixed with fuel and blood exploding, Kangke's aging hands finally reached the station-wide alert button.
But just like before, he found himself frozen, unable to move.
He was very nervous, his jaw tightened, and a helpless roar formed in his throat, but his body refused to obey at all.
It was like the sleep paralysis he had experienced during his long journey through the Warp - the will still functioned, but it was as if it had been trapped in a stone statue, completely unable to respond to his will.
He struggled to pray to the emperor, his glasses frame wet with sweat.
Finally, the last of his crew members died.
The bridge suddenly became quiet, and the sound of blood dripping on the deck could even be heard before the meditator whirred and lost power.
There is only one human alive, sitting on a throne in the center of the domed chamber.
A war wizard used psychic powers to immobilize the body of an old human.
Then she slowly climbed up the steps of the podium, the ancient witch's sword dripping with blood, and the white edge of her robe was stained with blood.
When she stood in front of this human being, the human being was also looking at her, but his eyes were aimless.
Veronica stared into his eyes for a moment. Normally she didn't get much out of a species like this - there was basically nothing to find except hatred and fear.
As always, their thought processes are extremely simplistic, and Veronica finds no pleasure in destroying them.
Or maybe she never has.
As a young Eldar, Veronica spent most of her time as a member of the Black Guardians, roaming near the Eye of the Cursed and blocking the horrific things that escaped from it.
She didn't even know the significance of the Great Prophet asking her to participate in this task. She never had any special thoughts about human beings - neither hatred nor interest.
However, now is not the time to be merciful.
Using her pale and slender fingers, she tucked a strand of silver hair that fell on her forehead behind her ear, and Veronica stretched out her hand.
She could feel the old human trembling with desire to be free of her, fighting with every fiber of his being to escape the helplessness of sorcery.
The veins protruded on the high neck under the straight collar of the military uniform, and sweat covered the wrinkled forehead.
Then, Veronica gently touched his forehead with two slender fingers. She needed to obtain the orbital station's fire control key from this human's head.
At the moment of relief, all kinds of emotions filled her will.
Fear, anger, shock.
She passed them, looking for what lay beneath.
Her own consciousness quickly passed through human memories, looking for the cornerstone of her soul.
She felt a mixture of pain and pride as she watched him sit on this throne for the first time, as the red-robed chanting machine creature attached data links and cables to his flesh.
She dived deeper.
She saw him on another ship, a capital ship of some kind, clinging to the railing around the throne, surrounded by flames and covered in blood.
This was the most humiliating moment in his life and his most tragic failure.
She went deeper.
She saw him standing in a splendid cathedral, surrounded by applauding guests, and opposite him a beautiful woman. The priest was loudly praising the Lord of Mankind and declaring the sanctity of their marriage.
He is young, his body is no longer shriveled, and his mind is filled with excitement and joy.
There is another kind of...
Veronica was a little hesitant about this emotion, just like a child looking up at the sugar bowl on the cabinet. It may be risky to get it, but the wonderful taste is irresistible.
What is this emotion?
Is this the love mentioned in books?
A certain sound suddenly reminded her.
Veronica immediately concentrated on guarding her consciousness so far. She had gone too far in this man's memory.
She suddenly discovered that although some things were forgotten deep in their hearts, they were never lost.
Honor, responsibility, and love.
This seemed to be his core, the root of his existence, and the reason he continued to live and breathe - even if he had forgotten.
Everything seemed very long, but in fact it was over in less than a second.
Along with Veronica's thoughts of an eternal end, the thread of reality erased his existence.
This chapter is not over, please click on the next page to continue reading! Humanity immediately collapsed on its throne and died.
Veronica removed her finger.
For a moment, she looked down at the corpse with empty eyes.
For a moment, she wondered if he had ever thought about the violent and bloody path he would take when he still knew warmth and love.
"War witches, don't be too indulged in the souls of other creatures, that is harmful."
A solemn voice sounded, and Veronica quickly turned her attention away from the human corpse.
She turned around, looked at the blood-stained bridge, and saw a strong figure emerging from the Shura field - wearing dark copper-colored ancient armor, holding a spear, and black fringed hair flowing down from the back of his head.
Lord of the Howling Banshees, Jarn Zhar.
"These monkeys are left with only violence and ignorance. Their souls are like poor spirits. Drinking them will only cause headaches and nausea. Only the depraved ones will try to get nourishment from the souls of these monkeys."
The Banshee Lord's voice sounded admonishing, and Veronica, who had obtained the orbital station's fire control key, quickly lowered her head.
"yes."
Outside the orbital station, a small Eldar battleship is quietly attached to the metal shell. It has a filled holographic shield and is covered with the most powerful psychic veil, so it can approach the orbital station quietly.
Avoid all detectors.
The core of the orbital station has been defeated, but their number is far from enough to occupy the entire orbital station. In fact, Veronica can hear the sound of knocking on the sealed blast door in the distance, which is more humans seeking to enter.
They are running out of time.
Veronica knew that, despite the Great Prophet's efforts to loosen the chains, fate's hand was still tightening around their throats like a noose.
If she doesn't succeed here, she'll lose more than just her personal future.