Some people have said that falling into the arms of the gods is a curse.
The warrior is willing to admit this.
Maybe it's a curse, but it's also a blessing.
In his silent moments, whenever he receives mercy, even for a moment, the warrior believes that this is a truth that others often forget.
He always expects something they have never had, but they will never get glory again.
War Dog, World-Eater, Black Blood Reaper, Legion Traitor—
He himself never realized that he had so many names, which was ridiculous.
Everything is given by their father who was cursed and blessed ten thousand times, and although it is hard to remember what he has done now, his offspring—at least a part of the rational ones who have retained.
Suddenly, a familiar sense of oppression grew behind his eyes, squirming and chiseling through his head.
He wandered in meditation for too long and would pay the price of pain, and his hunger and thirst must be satisfied, otherwise he would be punished.
The warrior continued to advance, his armored boots stepped on the stone, constantly echoing.
The enemy fled in front of him, and the ticking sound of the activate armor and the hoarse princess of the chainsaw blade shocked their ears. The axe in his hand was an object with cruel and bloody beauty. Its gear rails were coated with sacred ointments, often blood.
Blood--
This word is like a dose of acid on his thoughts like a spider web, and its breath is like a fishy smell flowing in the broken flesh and blood.
The warrior kept shaking, looking at the blood on the edge of the weapon, the anger in his heart suddenly soared - the blood on the serrated teeth of the axe chain had dried up.
The pain broke out again, and the pain behind the eyes was no different from the sharp blade, and this time it did not disappear.
The blood has dried up, and the battle axe has been waiting for the killing for a long time.
The next moment, the roar released the pressure and the warrior began to run.
"Blood sacrifices to the blood god!"
The next person who died was a soldier.
When death came, he stained the soldier's eyepiece with a broken rifle, and the wet filth in his belly poured down his legs.
The warrior smashed the man who was limped towards the wall, smashed him to pieces with another impact, and then used his dagger to cut off the dying man's head.
The blood stained the hand armor red. He held the harvest and let it turn in his hands, and saw the hidden skull through his pale skin.
He imagined stripping its skin, first cutting off the pale skin, then carving the serrated flesh of the veins on the bones, the eyes would pull out of the sockets and the brain would be washed with acidic cleaning fluid.
The warrior can clearly describe this scene because it was a ceremony he had performed countless times.
"Skull skull skull skull—"
The pain began to fade.
Everything returns peacefully, and the hunter hears the voices of his brothers.
As usual, the roar interrupted everything.
The warriors slowed down, trying to identify their words, and like him, they were hunting, something he vaguely recognized from the humming sounds they made from far away.
His name - they called it again and again.
"Bernoit!"
"brother?"
He said to the communicator, his voice was low and wet.
"Look ahead of you!"
"I……"
The warrior stopped, put down his loose hand and the axe hung beside it.
A broken wall spread out before his eyes, and he saw a huge gate wrapped around the chains, extending to a high place, but now it has poured on the ground with smoke.
The shells collapsed a wall and threw the semi-melted wreckage to the ground, and the flames burned in the pile of wreckage.
Similarly, there are dead bodies here.
The squad of raiders marched forward to him and shot into the smoke.
Berserker Benoit followed, forcing his mind to enter a calm mode.
As usual, this behavior made him feel sick.
Suddenly, something hit Benoit's shoulder, then his chest, and exploded.
He staggered, his head filled with sharp sobs, and his armor made a sound.
Some of the systems failed, and he could only hear his breathing in the dark.
But he could feel the blood, the sticky blood, rolling down from the inside of his right arm.
Soon, the voice filled his ears and the noise of the battle returned.
Somewhere beside him, a blood-stained warrior was howling, and then a flame arrow flew out of the smoke, melting the man's upper body and his armor, which was a familiar tooth-shaped explosion.
Hot melting-
His tactical eyepiece reactivated, and the gunfire flashed frequently in his sight, and the damage icon was radiating in the corner of his vision.
The battlefield gradually became clear in his eyes, a long building stretched in front of him, and the copper coating covered the walls stained by copper rust, and the hunting group of twenty raiders and their slave beasts were advancing towards the towering gate of the building.
It has a badge of a certain family on it, and it is a stronghold that is easy to defend and difficult to attack.
The flames spread around their silhouettes, and in the distance, the muzzles of the bomb guns spit out flames.
Under Benoit's gaze, a cluster of bullets hit one of the raiders.
The soldier fell down, his breastplate cracked and blood smuggled into the air.
"Master! The enemy's firepower is too strong! We, we-"
A slave let out a humble cry beside him.
Weakness is always weakness.
The warrior's lips and teeth were peeled off, and a wet smile appeared. Then the mechanical sharp teeth bit the body, and the last cry left the screaming mouth.
"Kill!"
Benoit burst out with a howl and leaped forward.
The explosion followed in his footsteps, but he did not slow down.
As he moved, he murmured thousands of prayers to God, and God never refused in countless battles in the past.
The same is true now.
A warrior in silver-gray armor squatted behind a broken wall, still firing while the warrior charges.
The bullet cleaves Benoit's chest with the spray of flesh and armor, but he does not stop at all.
While the Space Marine was still firing, Benoit jumped over the broken wall and slashed down.
Amid the violent impact, the Space Marine retreated aside, and the sharp teeth of the chainsaw sprayed sparks on the deck.
Blood flowed down Benoit, and he reached out and pulled off his helmet. The face under the helmet was hideous and terrifying, and the nerve implants spread on his forehead like vines.
The silver-gray armored warrior stepped back slowly, lowered the bomb rifle, and pulled out a blade from his waist.
Benoit laughed loudly and raised his battle axe as a tribute to his opponent.
Then the two soldiers rushed towards each other at the same time.
After the weapon hit several times, Benoit cut the battle axe into the opponent's breastplate and pushed forward until the sharp teeth chewed through the warrior's chest.
Just as he was about to capture his head, a laser hit Benoit from the side.
Benoit staggered back, and the skin on his face dripped onto the ground like oil.
"The coward's performance."
The warrior said in a long tone, then turned his head, which was almost unrecognizable.
A soldier holding a pistol stood twenty meters away from his right hand, and his brothers - just so he had all fallen to the ground.
"This is the emperor's punishment."
Emperor—
This word causes pain to spread from Benoit's temple, and a sense of oppression penetrates deeply into the center of the head.