The gloomy, heavy clouds had been tinged an eerie blue, and even the setting sun in the distance radiated an unsettling pink.
Under ordinary circumstances,
Luo Ji wouldn't have minded ordering a cup of coffee and finding a spot with a good view to slowly admire the breathtaking scenery.
But now, he wasn't in the mood.
Luo Ji stood leaning on his sword, gazing blankly around. His heart felt as if it were being squeezed, and the pain was unbearable!
At that moment, the Holy Terra Alliance's Senate—once a symbol of human civilization, the embodiment of humanity's highest ideals, and the governing body of a population of tens of billions—had become a terrifying living hell, as seen in the satellite's holographic images.
The massive sacrificial ritual had caused more than half of the nearly one million people in the city to evaporate. Thick blood, viscous as mud, covered every street in sight, and the air was rife with a rotting, nauseating stench!
If a place called "Hell" really existed, then—he believed—this was the truest image of it!
Hundreds of thousands of people had been sacrificed to that damned "Evil God." In their place, twisted, blasphemous monsters—Daemons—had crawled out of human corpses and flesh.
At the cost of the psychic power of hundreds of thousands, Frederick Taylor had forcibly torn apart the barrier between reality and the Warp. The most terrifying Daemons from his dreams had descended into the real world.
They were Tzeentch's Daemon Legion!
And their numbers were growing rapidly. At the forefront were blue and pink Horrors. As cannon fodder for Tzeentch's Daemon Legion, they poured out in droves from the billboards, the roads, the sky, and even the corpses. Cackling and dancing maniacally, they sprayed unpredictable flames of sorcery everywhere, as if celebrating another world falling into