165 Terra (Thirty-Three)

Constantine Valdor intently searched for a possible path in the darkness. 😝🍬 69ѕнⓊⓍ.ⓒỖм ✎♩ He stared intently at the ground, sniffing the Chaos, poisonous air, never letting his guard down for a moment.

They had already ventured quite deep into the darkness, and the Daemon did not seem to have truly discovered the group yet, but the air itself began to torment them before the demons could surge in again.

This aligns well with Valdor's vision of the Warp.

He calmly invoked the armor's processing system to analyze the pheromones in the air and arrived at the following conclusions.

Toxins, error, unable to analyze, error, toxins.

Putting aside the repetitive conclusions, Valdor knew in his heart that there was indeed a toxin in the air. His armor might have had a slight problem with the analysis and processing, but this blood-mist-like air could directly prove whether his conclusion was correct.

Valdor believes that air is now itself a toxin.

They were penetrating his lungs with each breath, bringing a pricking pain. Interestingly, what lay hidden behind this pain was a sudden increase in his heart rate and a sharp rise in his hormone levels.

The Adeptus Custodes Guard Marshal accurately detected the abnormality in his body and concluded that his strength and speed had been enhanced in a way that did not belong to the Warp; the toxin in the air was a potent stimulant with no side effects.

Repetition: It does not bring any power from Chaos; it originates from Chaos and is born from Chaos, but it is more precise.

How is that possible?

He reported this matter to his lord through the link. Within the Webway, the Master of Mankind saw the whole picture through his eyes and gave a command.

Don't worry about it, just keep doing what you're supposed to do.

He didn't explain, but Valdor didn't seem to care.

He stopped and drew a circle in front of him with his spear. Auramite light flashed for a few seconds, briefly dispelling the darkness. A few skeletons were exposed, and the alternating black and white armor gave off an interesting chill.

And the emblem on their armor, that black, abstract cross— Valdor's memory couldn't be wrong, unless his lord would allow it to be altered. Therefore, he concluded that these markings belonged to veterans of the Imperial Fists.

At the same time, a sigh came from behind him. Valdor took it to heart and asked, "Why the sigh, Company Commander Alessio Cortez?"

"It's nothing, Lord Valdor," Alessio replied with difficulty.

He pronounced the word "adult" with a natural ease, Valdor immediately reminded himself that Alessio was probably not the same as the Astartes he knew.

The newly appointed company commander, whose service period was only three years, held the Adeptus Custodes in high esteem, and not because of the Emperor's recent brief appearance.

He respects me, Valdor thought. Does he know who I am?

He glanced at the young-looking soldier but found no evidence to support his hypothesis.

"Are they your allies?" Valdor asked.

"They are blood brothers," Alessio replied solemnly. "They are among the most fanatical and loyal warriors in the Milky Way; if we were to choose a role model among us, they would certainly be at the forefront."

Valdor nodded and strode over.

The ground was still covered with a thick layer of ash. He crouched down and scooped some up, finding some molten Ceramite particles in it. The pheromones in the air changed again, and a unique smell, the residue of burning, filled his nostrils.

He stood up and continued to approach the dead soldiers.

Their white robes were stained with dried blood. But upon closer inspection, one could see that all the black parts of their armor had actually turned a dull, blood-red color.

These soldiers must have endured unimaginable carnage before they died, but Valdor must continue his work.

So he reached out and took the helmet off a corpse. It did not refuse Valdor's action, and everyone saw a face glaring with anger.

His teeth were clenched, the muscles in his cheeks were stiff and locked together, and a long, narrow bloodstain ran from his eyes and nasal cavity down to his chin.

"Do you know him?" Valdor asked.

Alessio paused for a few seconds, then gave a name: "Razoan Danu Eton".

Military rank?

I cannot tell you.

"Interesting." Valdor nodded. "And what about these parchments?"

He reached out and gently lifted a long strip of parchment hanging from the dead man's right shoulder armor. It looked very old, yet miraculously it hadn't been stained at all during such a brutal war; the writing was still legible.

"God-Emperor?" Valdor asked, pointing to a single word.

Alessio suddenly felt a little nervous for no reason, but the Adeptus Custodes didn't ask any questions. They simply put the helmet back and fastened it securely. Then they continued on their way.

From the depths of darkness, distorted sounds occasionally drifted out. It was pitch black, and even with modifications or the use of night vision goggles, it was impossible to see through the darkness.

No matter how long they walked, the ground seemed to remain a pale, thick layer of ash, unchanged, only bearing their own footprints. Valdor led the way silently, as if he knew exactly where the path was.

After a while, their perception of the ground suddenly changed. With just one step, everyone's perception became strange; they began to "walk upwards" instead of walking on flat ground.

The distorted sounds grew louder, and more and more corpses littered the roadside. Some were still recognizable, while others had crumbled into dust along with their armor. Among them were even two Terminator; had the Adamantium not been so resilient, they probably wouldn't have been able to detect them from the ashes.

The confusion surrounding time was becoming increasingly apparent, Valdor reported the matter again, but the Emperor's voice remained calm throughout the connection.

"You are venturing deeper into a tower," the Master of Mankind spoke slowly. "Perhaps it shouldn't be called a tower, but it is indeed a spiraling structure. A spiral representing entanglement is a rather dangerous concept on Terra today, but fortunately, Alessio Cortez possesses the sword, so you have permission."

"Is it his permission?" Valdor asked. "Is he still alive, my lord?"

"Suffering," The Emperor said. "Just like all of you. Make them bow their heads, Valdor, and so you."

The Adeptus Custodes Guard Marshal immediately ordered, "Lower your head."

As soon as the words were spoken, a bolt of lightning struck the darkness eerily. A raging inferno erupted, and the ashes that had remained unharmed on the ground were instantly thrown upside down, rising wildly into the sky.

A crimson light easily tore through the darkness, and a vast shadow enveloped them all. The wind howled past their ears, carrying with it the roars of the dead. Valdor remained silent, head bowed, feeling a chilling, scorching sensation.

He immediately realized that this was a gaze, and the person holding that gaze was observing him.

No, that's not observation; He is merely weighing His soul.

Five seconds later, the strange phenomenon disappeared, and he had already gained some understanding.

Valdor looked up and saw a blood-red setting sun hanging high in the sky.

"Looks like we've arrived," he said.

His words were true. At this moment, the scene before the Adeptus Custodes and the 425 Astartes of the Crimson Fists was no longer darkness, but a blood-red desert.

The terrifying heat scorched their armor, the servo systems began to warn, and faint sparks appeared at the components. They raised their swords or spears, scanning their surroundings, awaiting the next command. But the Adeptus Custodes hesitated to move, standing still in contemplation, the tips of their spears gleaming with a holy light that dispelled all impurity.

Alessio Cortés simply raised his head and glanced at the sky. However, at that moment, the sword in his hand suddenly hummed, sending a chilling force into his heart.

Unlike Constantine Valdor, at this moment, what he saw in the sky was not a blood-red setting sun, but a serene moon.

It is neither fanatical nor angry. In fact, quite the opposite, it carries a deathly chill, the kind of gentle moonlight that shines on the tombstones of the deceased.

"My lord, what should we do?" Valdor asked.

He was annoyed by his own indecisiveness; these repeated requests for instructions were a disgrace. But the strangeness of the place was sending frantic warning signals through his intuition. And if intuition wasn't enough, the burning sensation from his injured right hand proved something else entirely.

He once wielded his sword for his lord, and that sword strike did indeed wound the so-called Khorne, thus creating a connection between him and Him.

Unlike his sacred connection with the Emperor, it could still allow Valdor to sense certain emotions.

Like the blood-red desert before him, seemingly calm and still, yet turbulent undercurrents surged, a terrifying fury writhing cruelly beneath the tranquil red sand. This was why Valdor hesitated to take a step.

+Wait.+ the Emperor said.+Just wait until night falls, just wait until the Astronomican burns. Our shattered timelines are moving in tandem; two events that occurred at different times are about to reach their end at the same point.+

+ Astronomican? Thunder is there too.+

"Yes, Thunder is here too." The Emperor said, his voice calm and tinged with laughter, the previous weakness completely gone. But Valdor also detected a divine quality that shouldn't have been there.

He frowned, intending to ask a question, but the Master of Mankind's next words immediately reached his ears. The voice was a multifaceted combination, a combination of old people, young people, women, and children, containing both the wisdom of a king and the madness of a madman.

Also Vindicators Sol Tavec, the Equalizer; Sigismund, the Champion; Bjorn, the Lone Wolf; and Ahzek Ahriman, the Blind Man.

The Master of Mankind sighed deeply, his voice returning to its solitary quality after that moment. And his voice truly rang in Valdor's ears, carrying warmth, sorrow, and pride, far from the coldness unique to psionic beings.

"And my sons."

I'll write as much as I can before midnight; I won't stay up late anymore.