Although the main green-skinned force of Ferron has long been defeated, their remnants are still stubbornly resisting under the dead planet.
Malakin's idea is simple, he will kill every greenskin in the world to achieve their salvation.
And most of the time, he will be on the front line to direct operations.
Under his command, every Lamenter warrior knew his mission, and his actions were upgraded to a more sophisticated level.
Before him, the greenskins hesitated—their roars were muted, their blows deflected, and their tenacity melted.
As the bloody broadsword flew up and down, the alien blood had coated the thick blade with a layer of blood, and the battle group was invincible, pointing directly at the center of the green-skinned underground network.
"Watcher of the Abyss," the warriors called him.
This gloomy nickname stems from the deep sorrow and resentment in Malakin's heart, which in turn comes from the troubled experience of the Chapter.
When the soldiers feel his state of mind, they will become extremely ferocious and almost suicidal and rush to the front. Too many hardships have gradually turned the war group into a worship of death and sacrifice.
Even so, the first thing they have to do is still destroy the enemy.
On this day, the Weeper finally found the last underground stronghold of the Greenskins, which they had been searching for for months.
The ground around the warriors shook with heat, and the walls themselves glowed with a sombre red.
Magma spurts from the restless surface of the vast lake of fire, splashing on stalactites jutting from the high roofs. There is only one path across the inferno - a strip of reflective rock ten meters wide and a hundred meters long, like
An uncoordinated queue is thrown out of the blender below.
The mountain road is flat and wide, climbing all the way to the last gate - the entrance to the innermost fortress of the entire underground complex.
The greenskins gathered in front of the gate in droves, knowing that this was their last battle.
They gathered in front of heavy stone piers, each of which was decorated with strange and crude statues of their gods. The skin of these aliens was almost black under the heat of the flames.
This is the largest group of their kind, and now they plunge into battle with fury, roaring with uncontrollable bellicosity.
Just in the middle of the causeway, the heavily armored men broke into the queue of the Wailers, and a close fight began.
At the same time, a vortex composed of ammunition and energy weapons roared out from under the huge lintel, spraying death into the lava gushing below.
The Weeper elites fought against the oncoming waves of aliens. Malakin personally faced off against a giant beast wearing heavy armor. The two of them struggled together at the top of the mountain mouth, and the two giants were jumping.
Fighting furiously in the flames.
This only lasted maybe ten seconds.
"die!!"
Malakin roared angrily, and the bloody broad sword drew an arc, and then the huge green-skinned head flew high into the air and landed in the magma.
Afterwards, the headless body fell to the ground, causing a small earthquake.
Malakin pulled away from the battle and stared into the blast of fire, his cloak flapping in the fierce wind.
The green-skinned boss's body was swallowed up in the strong wind, burned, and eventually turned into ashes.
Then Malakin raised his head. Although the purgatory around him was still burning, everyone was enveloped by a murderous aura that penetrated deep into their souls.
He only said three words, and his voice suddenly became hollow and desolate.
"follow me."
Then he moved forward alone, his demeanor changing from luxurious to as terrifying as the night.
Malakin waved his knife gloomily, cutting the air like a whisper of miserable wind, bringing up arcs of turbid liquid.
The greenskins flinched, their roars swallowed back in their throats, their bravado suddenly turning into caution.
Malakin continued to kill, rushing into the formation, first unleashing his heavy swings, then accelerating, faster and faster, harder and harder, until he entered a state that was close to black rage.
For the descendants of the Blood Angels, once they enter this state, they only think about killing, and there is almost no deviation between intention and action. Revenge becomes a living thing with both denotation and connotation.
Shrouded in irresistible revenge, the Blood Angels fell into black rage and slaughtered everything in sight.
The Black Rage came from Sanguinius, the Primarch of the Blood Angels. When he was slain by Horus on the Vengeful Spirit, the immense pain left a strong psychic mark on his legion.
When this mark is activated, the Blood Angels will fall into a real illusion. They will become the echo of the former Gene Father in the Vengeful Soul, seeing themselves as dying angels, and everything in front of them should be destroyed.
of enemies.
The Blood Angels in this state are almost uncontrollable, so the Black Rage has become a terrible curse for the noble angels.
The Lamenters are an exception, an ancient secret of their Chapter.
Their ancestors defeated the Black Rage by some means, and there are still very few warriors who can call upon the power of the Black Rage in a rational state.
Malaki is one of them.
If he was killing freely before, now he is killing completely, almost breaking the boundary between divinity and demon.
Even the Astartes, who had been on the battlefield for a long time and were accustomed to hysterical violence, remained silent about it.
In just the blink of an eye, hundreds of aliens fell under his knife.
Alien weapons cannot touch him at all.
They looked up at him, and then were swept away. Even if they tried to parry and dodge, they still fell down like a knife cutting through wheat.
Some non-greenskins tried to join forces to fight, but were torn into whimpering pieces.
Malakin ran wildly through the herd, paving a bloody path around himself, killing like a ghost in the endless darkness, silent like a tombstone, and biting like the night wind.
A minute later, Malakin was barely visible.
He hid behind a curtain formed by cut pieces of flesh and splattered blood. A primitive power burned in the alien team, dark and spectacular.
This chapter is not over yet, please click on the next page to continue reading! For the first time in the entire campaign, the greenskins tried to escape, trying to escape from the hungry yellow demon.
But they have no space, no time, and no hope.
Most of them were caught when they turned around, cut open from the back, and had their necks chopped off.
The few who managed to make it back to the gate huddled and shivered in the shadow of the larger monster, sent by their warlord.
The green-skinned warlord dragged his feet and staggered back inside the door, assuming a fight-to-die attitude.
But its slightly trembling power claws betrayed its heart.
Then, Malakin walked past the edge of the gate, and no greenskins came out to stop him.
Soon, the alien screams came from the other side of the door, one after another, layered and repeated, making it suffocating.
This chorus of terror and panic continued without any relief.
Ten minutes later, a Lamenter warrior slowly approached the gate, his boots crunching on the path of corpses.
As he approached, Malakin appeared again.
The yellow armor was soaked in blood, and thick alien blood dripped from every armor plate and edge.
His cloak was in pieces, and the blade turned into a stream of alien blood, but he still stood with his head held high. The feeling of killing had disappeared, leaving only numbness.
After a few seconds, they looked at each other, both of their faces covered by helmets.
Heat burned around them.
After a moment of silence, Malakin reached for his neck guard and took off his helmet, revealing his thin cheeks.
His eyes shone dimly, as if the flash of some evil power still lingered, clinging to this soul even though its reason for existing had disappeared.
The use of the power of the Black Rage is not without cost. The deep sorrow and despair that the original body felt before his death will still haunt him.
"Chapter Commander, is it over?"
the soldier asked softly.
"We just received a message from orbit."
Malakin walked unsteadily, locking his helmet on his armor. The blood around him was still flowing. Now he was as alive as the angel Sanguinius, although not as beautiful.
After calming down a little, Malakin nodded and sheathed his sword.
"It's over here, what's the news?"
"Message from the Astropath, Chapter Master Soshyan of the Astral Knights invites you to meet on Nessen 4."