The candle flames hissed as a blood mist spread from the Dark Apostle Mateo, covering over a hundred kilometers in an instant.
Alvaro raised his jet-black battleaxe high and charged at the bloodstained brutal angel.
Blackness covered his right hand and rapidly climbed up his wrist.
Thump, thump—
His heart pounded violently, as though it would burst from his chest.
Alvaro's eyes turned crimson. He suddenly threw back his head and let out a beastly roar.
The howl flooded the ears of those around him as he charged at the False Emperor's lackeys.
The steel braid atop the 12th Legion Rapid Expeditionary Force warrior's head hummed, pulling him by instinct toward the place with the most enemies.
The chainaxe roared, its spinning teeth tearing four mortals into pieces.
Bang!
The jet-black battleaxe struck Mark III Iron Pattern Power Armour, and the dark weapon forged in the furnaces of Cavor Sarta bit out a finger-sized hole.
Thick black venom sank into bronze skin like poisonous serpents.
The Rapid Expeditionary Force warrior violently swung his arm, and the battleaxe exploded.
Alvaro flew away like a kite with its string cut. His chest caved in, and blood mixed with black toxic gore spurted out.
His vision blurred, and a pair of gleaming combat boots suddenly appeared before his eyes.
"By order of Lord Sigillite Malcador and Lord Roboute Guilliman, beginning this year, Saran Luxor will pay taxes to the Imperium to support the Emperor and the Ultramarines' Great Crusade."
"My lord, what?" Alvaro asked in confusion.
"You will begin paying taxes today!"
A bloated belly twice the size of Alvaro's body filled his vision.
"How much?"
"One quarter of your work quota. Twenty-five credits." The man's belly wobbled.
"The larger one must be paid every year."
"My lord, my yearly income is only