Although the voices around him kept reminding him, the prophet did not answer. Instead, he gritted his teeth and pulled the trigger, firing a tracer bullet to illuminate the dark tunnel.
The numerical runes on the helmet's tactical retina faded away, shrinking every second, as the assault gun's rotating barrel began to glow a brighter red under the pressure of overheating.
"Talos."
The voice became hoarse again.
"Don't go too far forward."
The assault gun roared, then slowly lowered.
Talos wanted to retort, but didn't know what to say - Sirion was right.
However, the frustration remains.
Hunting has changed again.
Talos paused in his stride, letting the stabilizers and servo systems on his leg armor help him achieve this goal.
The gun barrel hissed in the cold air, and alien corpses were scattered at his feet. Selion and Marcus walked heavily towards the tunnel, the sound of their joints rubbing and heavy footsteps filling the tunnel.
They all wore Terminator armor, and the twin bolt bombs on their arms showed the tainted Imperial Eagle.
"I'm running out of ammo."
Marcus said in a low voice:
"It's time to put on our power armor and split up. The slaughter is enjoyable, but they're trying to avoid us."
Talos nodded.
"I'm going to miss these armaments."
"I can do it too."
Makuchen replied with a smile.
"I can't even remember how many of these despicable aliens we killed. There were at the last intersection...there were so many of this group."
Makuchin used his twin bolters to blast the bloody corpses that had been destroyed.
"About ninety-four"
"This is just scum."
Sirion turned his tusked helm towards Markusen.
"But what about those screaming bitches? I haven't hit them yet."
"I do not have either."
Talos said with regret.
"I didn't hit the first one. Only the weak ones died like worms. None of the howling banshees died."
Korosa, who was once a technical sergeant, walked last. His armor was washed clean with blood. His helmet was not in the style of the Eighth Legion, but a cruelly curved horn emerged from the bridge of the nose on the panel.
"They are the priestesses of the alien war god."
The prophet turned to look at him, but no one said a word for a while.
"What did you just say?"
Korosa snorted.
"I have tortured Eldar prisoners in the past, so I probably know something about them."
"Whatever they are, we should meet back at the Third Claw."
"Talos."
Suddenly, a voice sounded on the communication channel,
The prophet hesitated for a moment, but no famous characters flashed on his helmet display.
But the voice is familiar enough.
"Valer?"
"Brother, I'm in the ruins above, we have to talk."
"No, please let this be a dirty joke. I ordered you to leave for a reason, idiot."
"Hear me out, Talos."
Talos then listened carefully to his brother's explanation, even though Valier's explanation was rushed and fragmented.
It took a while for Talos to roughly understand what he meant.
"Let's go to the Third Claw."
He immediately ordered the other Talons.
"Valiel, don't go down here. The tunnels are full of Eldar."
"Will you come back to the surface?"
Talos himself wasn't sure.
"Maybe, you just need to stay hidden now."
When the First Claw and the Third Claw finally reunited, the howling banshees returned.
The Third Talon had been reduced to four warriors, their slain brethren left in the corridor.
This time, the Night Lords are ready.
They'd spent the past few hours chasing their prey through the hallways, satisfying their hearts in a way they'd never felt before, but now they were going head-to-head.
The alien howled through the ranks of the Eighth Legion, and only the blurry blades and flowing buns could be seen.
Talos heard a roar from one of his brothers.
"We are outnumbered!"
But the limbs and blades pressing on him made all information meaningless. The two banshees in front of him screamed and raised their swords. Talos felt the cold touch squirming in his muscles, slowing him down.
speed.
"Long live! King of the Night!!!"
Talos let out a scream of his own, a roar from three lungs and an enhanced respiratory system, heightened tenfold in intensity with the help of the microphone in his helmet.
The surviving Night Lords heard the cry and then their hearts beat faster.
The long-standing tactic of the banshees is to deafen the crowd with howls, making the enemy soft before killing them.
But now, now Talos is using it against the screamers.
The three alien long swords shattered at once, and when the harmonious and brutal screams reached their peak, the eyepieces of several banshees also cracked at the same time.
Then the Night Lord's howl suddenly disappeared, and Talos suddenly swung his fist, damaging the head of the first banshee, shattering her skull and shoulder bones.
The second man staggered back amid the shouts, but was immediately shot to pieces by the assault cannon.
Talos put down his empty assault cannon and reached for his bolter, taking a deep breath and preparing to scream again.
But suddenly, his throat seemed to be blocked by something.
Cerion on the side punched the alien in the stomach, breaking her sternum and spine at the same time.
When her two weak legs hung on him, he lowered his head and stabbed her body with his helmet.
"Did you hear that?"
Everyone shouted loudly, and Talos also closed his mouth. He felt that his heart was accelerating uncontrollably.
"It's footsteps."
Talos said calmly, realizing that something was approaching.
"It's not footsteps, that's too fast."
Cerion tried to retort, and he pushed twice hard to get the twisting body off the horn.
When he stood up straight again, his neck made a loud cracking sound.
Then Sirion heard it too.
Talos was right, it was footsteps.
"what is that?"
There was a rapid rhythm that softly hit the stone on the steps and echoed in the corridor, as loud as the wind on the bend.
Talos stood above the two slain Eldar girls, blood dripping from his curled fingers.
Now, all the shouting has stopped, and the only sound is the footsteps.
"What is it?"
Sirion repeated his question.
Talos took a deep breath and answered tremblingly.
"A storm of flesh and blood, a rain of sharp blades, she walks in the void."
The prophet licked his teeth with his tongue, tasting the sour taste on his gums.