"Holy... In the name of the Holy Pantheon! I declare the meeting ended!"
In the orbit of the agricultural world of Farr, a meeting had just ended in the pale wraithbone spaceship.
Alstin, who shut up in time, became more and more distraught in the eyes of the warrior who supervised him in the time after the accident.
No, it's not like being distracted. Judging from his long experience in supervising the prophets, it's more like a terrible pollution.
However, any pollution has extremely obvious characteristics in the eyes of the tribe warriors of Uthwe.
No matter it is the chaotic aura on the body that is hidden but can still be recognized with intention;
It is still the personality under the desire that becomes more and more out of control as the power of pollution erodes.
These are the only methods he has summed up in his previous supervision of those who have fallen, and rely on them to identify them.
But, there are none of these.
Ever since that accident happened, it can be said that he has been following Alstin closely.
But this trainee prophet, who was full of doubts in his eyes, not only did not have those signs of chaos and corruption.
On the contrary, after he secretly observed it from a psychic perspective, he got the illusion that "this guy's psychic energy is purer and more stable"!
Absolutely an illusion!
The tribe warrior thought to himself, but the coldness lingering on Alstin's body made him unable to deny it.
It was that kind of coldness that made him feel the clarity of the subspace with a little touch of spiritual energy.
And it was this coldness that made him instinctively feel a kind of... fear when observing Alstin?
On the ground in Farr, different forces are still closely entangled, and any changes in the Eldar clan are even more subtle from a global perspective.
Deep in the hive city of Zerita, on the eleventh floor of the Archives, Sulla and his comrades are still fighting.
Dirty blood and corpses were lying on the road they walked, and before they knew it, there were thousands of them.
"Is that it?" Sulla asked the battle sister behind him.
After entering the eleventh floor of the archives, they finally walked to the center of the building against the tide of corpses.
The number of enemies is still endless, and the battle mode of this team has also changed.
The heavy gunshots no longer continued, because the Astartes warriors only had two bases of ammunition left;
The Battle Sisters took over this part of the function and began to attack long-range targets behind the human wall.
"It should be." Mirius left Padilla and walked to the servo placed in the mechanical altar.
She took out the universal data collection skull from her waist and pressed it down after a simple operation.
Click, click, click!
Amidst the sound of four dense metal collisions, the claw-like port on the back of the skull was deeply inserted into the servo.
Then, there is no more...
"Isn't this thing broken?" Sura stood fighting on the left side of the team and turned around to ask after clearing the tide of corpses in front of him.
"Silence!" Miris looked at the other party angrily, fearing that his casual words would become reality.
"Praise the God of All Opportunities!" Mirius chanted without sincerity.
I don’t know if it’s the generosity of the God of All Machines or the emperor’s blessing.
In short, after a few long seconds of waiting, this ancient machine finally started a worrying gear rotation under the flickering lights in the skull's eye sockets.
"Emperor's blessing!" Mirius prayed in a low voice, and in a blink of an eye, he put aside his admiration for the God of All Opportunities.
And as if in response to her "temporary faith" full of pragmatism, the altar fell into a long self-examination process after a slow start...
The team without a mechanical priest is like this. They can only perform the simplest operations and pray that these ancient machines will not malfunction.
But the efficiency of this servo was still far beyond their expectations.
The machinery on the altar was working slowly, and the unhurried tapping of gears and machine keys made everyone who had been waiting for a long time anxious.
As we all know, no matter what religious belief, something like an altar must be placed in an open position that is not conducive to defense.
For this team, this geographical environment is the battlefield they least want to choose.
The waves of corpses seemed to have no end, and they quickly piled up a wall of corpses at the feet of the Astartes warriors;
Snipers and groups of rebel iron guards appeared from time to time in the distance, which not only tested the concentration of the battle sisters, but also consumed their few ammunition.
Click!
The machinery on the altar finally stopped working, and Mirius walked up to it first.
She picked up the parchment scroll spit out from the gate and carefully rolled it up without even having time to read it carefully.
Sura in the distance also saw this. The moment Miris put away the scroll, he used the communication channel to notify his comrades on the other side of the altar:
"Okay! Let's go!"
"Copy that!" The two Astartes warriors swung their swords vigorously, cleared the tide of corpses in front of them, and began to retreat slowly.
The battle nuns two steps behind them, while on guard with their guns, began to tacitly occupy the fire support position as the team marched.
"Where to go next?" Sulla asked Mirius as he walked, and the latter responded to Sulla after a brief communication with Padilla:
"The encryption key of the collection has been passed, the next step is to retrieve the collected data box!"
"Understood!" Sura agreed, and then walked back to the front of the team.
And in his seemingly calm heart, there is finally a possibility that this seemingly endless task can be completed...
The team is advancing, but the enemies are still coming endlessly.
But as the emperor said:
The flames of war are the hottest furnace, allowing this team with differences to reach a tacit understanding in the shortest possible time.
And it is precisely this kind of test that allows those heroes who truly belong to mankind to be tempered and then stand out...
The upper level of Zerita Hive, deep in the palace of the Planet Governor.
This chapter is not over, please click on the next page to continue reading! The Chaos Astartes warriors sitting on the throne, after sending out the direct guards of Tolikov's 8th regiment, no longer have any influence on the battle in the archives
s concern.
The whereabouts of the sacred objects and the actions of the imperial troops cannot cause him any sense of crisis.
The root of this fearless attitude lies in the sacrificial ceremony to the Blood God that he is currently focusing all his energy on.
"That's enough, right?"
When the last "multiple of eight" sacrifice was made, he was driven into the blasphemous magic circle by his subordinates.
When the orbit of the entire planet in the galaxy also subtly conforms to the meaning of "eight".
This fallen space warrior who surrendered to Khorne finally waited for the moment he had been longing for after countless attempts to endure the killings.
"Yes, as I wish now, I believe that the power of destruction will be pleased by your sacrifice!"
The rickety wizard answered softly, while the staff in his hand was quietly tightened.
He was afraid, afraid that this space warrior, this believer of the Blood God, would count him among the sacrifices the moment the ceremony was ready.
And this sense of crisis is by no means without reason. On the contrary, betrayal and cannibalism within Chaos are also the ingredients favored by the gods.
"Are you afraid?" The terrifying giant took off his helmet and walked towards the wizard in front of him.
His ferocious teeth, swept by the long blood-colored tongue, continued to open at inhuman angles, and then completed a cheek-tearing smile in the wizard's eyes.
"No, this is reverence for the gods."
The wizard lowered his head to avoid eye contact, and then answered in a low voice.
He didn't want to conflict with this believer of the Blood God, but that didn't mean he had nothing to rely on.
A ring made of three skulls was on his hand with the sleeves exposed, and the holy symbol named "Seven" was also flashing on the back of his neck and on his chest.
"Hurry up, sir..." he advised softly.
"Lord Abaddon's patience is limited, and our mission does not allow for any surprises..."