106 Dark Crusade (30: My Headache-Inducing Brothers)

Standing on the makeshift city wall built with quick-setting composite building materials on the outskirts of the camp, the Hunter thoughtfully placed his hands on the edge of the wall.

He ignored the several dark clouds that were rapidly moving toward him, focusing instead on the silver spire that almost filled the entire sky.

It was enormous and extremely complex. Countless radiant bridges were layered between silvery layers, and doors were everywhere, some open and some closed, creating a perplexing sight.

The Hunter knew he couldn't delve too deeply; once he got caught up in the logic of "thinking about its uses," he'd likely have to pay a price to break free.

But his observations couldn't stop there; he needed to gather more information.

Taking unnecessary risks was not his style, but this Silver Tower was simply too terrifying. No one had noticed its existence until it revealed itself. This alone forced him to temporarily abandon his caution.

His brows furrowed, and at that moment, his cloudy eyes completely disregarded the limitations of distance, allowing him to see every detail of the Silver Tower with unparalleled clarity.

He ignored most of them, only noting a few characteristics: evil magic that used pure souls as a power source, multi-layered, chaotic bridges and doors, and most importantly...

That eye at the top of the tower, that clear yellow beastly pupil that looks like a Lantern.

Why is it orange-yellow?

The Hunter calmly and proactively met its gaze, and in an instant, a chorus of birdsong erupted.

"You are fearless, are you, blind prophet?" a softly chuckling voice asked.

"There are no prophets in this world; those who believe in prophecy or fate are fools," the Hunter replied slowly.

The terrifying chorus of screams still echoed in his ears; the creations born from the tide of Chaos greedily invaded reality, briefly depriving the Hunter of his hearing. Blood trickled down his ears, paused briefly on the inscriptions on his shoulder armor, and then fell straight to the ground.

The voice chuckled softly, then began to patiently and deliberately speak, "Perhaps so. I must admit, I find every interaction with you all quite interesting."

"You all possess the ability to foresee the future, yet you deem it utterly unbelievable, as if those vivid images were merely a partial interpretation of the future. Well then, let me offer you a completely new perspective, how about that, Hunter?"

The Hunter did not answer.

He had already obtained what he needed, and he didn't care about the monster lurking behind that beastly eye or its whispers; sooner or later, he would encounter it.

Then he would kill it.

The Hunter turned around, leaped, and jumped off the city wall.

The last dozen or so war machines of the Calth roared their engines, their Machine Spirit yearning for slaughter. These pure, simple, and sincere souls only wanted to add more glory to the Omnissiah.

Of course, being born from Calth, they also carry some concept of "Vengeance" in their consciousness.

Amid this commotion, the soldiers, who hadn't had a few days of rest, climbed back into the tank without complaint.

This is quite rare. Throughout the entire Imperium, ordinary people who can maintain morale and combat capability after such a crushing defeat are extremely rare. However, for the Calth, this seems insignificant.

The pre-battle deployment was completed quite quickly. Before long, these big vehicles drove out of the camp, and the artillery positions were already full of people.

Wearing goggles or full-face helmets, the Calth wielded their excessively long and strong arms, carrying out every order from their superiors.

The Hunter only glanced at them briefly, but his respect for them rose once again.

The Calth are not blind; they can see what is happening in the sky. Nor do Calth suffer from amnesia; they still remember what happened in their homeland not long ago.

However, even at this moment, they still choose to fight.

It's important to understand that this isn't the only option. A short-lived escape is still an escape, a fantasy world that offers a temporary respite from harsh reality, but they are unwilling to enter it.

Faced with one calamity after another, the Calth chose to stand tall and confront it all in a human way.

The Hunter understood that this was not something that could be achieved by the mere glimmer of humanity in a few leaders; he preferred to call it a spirit.

He withdrew his gaze, composed himself, and strode quickly toward the two giants standing side by side not far away.

They had been waiting for a long time, but there was no one behind them. The elite veterans who should have been lined up were nowhere to be seen. Only these two lone Chapter Master remained in the camp.

Skaradrik remained unchanged, his expression serious and impatient, two giant axes already in his hands. Kaul Sahora, on the other hand, had his brows furrowed, staring intently at a Dataslate.

"How is it?" the Scarlet Lord asked coldly.

The Hunter bowed slightly to him before answering, "It's now confirmed that it's the work of Daemon or Cultists who follow Tzeentch; that Silver Tower is the best evidence of their existence."

The Shadow Knights' Chapter Master, unusually annoyed, interrupted the conversation and then threw the Dataslate away.

"We still can't get in touch with them. Damn Chaos!"

The Hunter looked at him and bowed politely. "Perhaps, Commander Knight, the safety of Lord Jago Sevatarion is not something we need to worry about."

Skaradrik smiled coldly, his pale face revealing almost black veins. A sudden gust of cold wind swept in from one end of the camp to the other.

The wind was so strong that it instantly blew away some tents that had already been secured, but the Great Khan's white hair remained unaffected. The crisscrossing black hairs beneath his skin were becoming more and more prominent, and even their color was turning dark red.

Just as the Hunter had said, he was indeed not worried about Jago Sevatarion.

The strength of the Night's Firstborn is evident to all four Chapter Masters, but the Highlord is undoubtedly the one who understands it best.

The Crimson Claws possess a wild instinct that surpasses even that of Fenris's wolf pack in some respects, with Skaradrik being one of the best among them.

Whenever he was face-to-face with Sevatar or in the same room, his two strong hearts would instinctively start beating rapidly, making his body active.

But this was not preparation for battle; quite the opposite, it was his instinct urging him to get away from that creature in human skin.

Therefore, Skaradrik is perfectly clear about what Jago Sevatarion really is.

However, whether there are other factors behind his lack of concern is something only he himself can know.

"Then let's proceed according to the plan," the Hunter said, his voice gentle, giving no indication that he was about to step onto the battlefield.

His calmness is also puzzling; the Night Lords don't usually like to show their emotions, but he always seems to be.

Kaul Sahora looked away and took a deep breath.

He was still uncertain; he still dared not say that they could gain the upper hand in this war.

Looking at it this way, he seems somewhat out of place with the two people around him, but he is probably the most "normal" one.

Scarlet Lord Skaradrik was a ferocious beast who always acted on instinct. Regarding war, he held a rather simple view; he cared nothing for anything other than victory or defeat.

The Hunter is usually a reliable but also incredibly annoying mystic, always appearing calm and collected, making you want to drag him into the dueling cage and give him a piece of your mind.

In fact, this kind of thing had happened before, but every time he faced the malice of the Chapter Master or high-ranking officers, he would choose to back down directly.

He either concedes defeat or concedes after a few rounds. He has absolutely no desire to win, and even when faced with the most vicious taunts, he simply laughs it off.

Therefore, Kaul couldn't imagine what he looked like in battle. Moreover, he had never seen the Hunter and his group of chanting brothers killing each other on the battlefield.

From the few words they could glean, the Shadow Knights could only equate them with formidable combat power; everything else remained unknown.

Coincidentally, these two Chapter Master happen to be the most outstanding and typical examples in their respective Chapter.

The thought of fighting alongside such allies and holding the camp filled Kaul with an indescribable sense of powerlessness.

He could even see what might happen next: calling out to the Crimson Claws, to no avail, no one answered, only their roars could be heard.

Calling out to the Hunter yielded no results; some responded, but the responses were mostly along the lines of "No need to worry," or a chanting of scriptures.

Given this bleak battlefield situation and the Blade of Judgement left unattended and that of his brothers from the Mother Clan were unthinkable, Kaul couldn't imagine what these people were capable of.

But he said nothing, only nodded, and turned to head to the battlefield.

The flock of birds had arrived, cannons roared, gunboats flew across the sky, the earth churned, and all sorts of Tzeentch Daemon leaped out from the silvery Radiance that had enveloped them, shouting incessantly, creating a cacophony of noise.

Some were wild beasts, some were birds, some were strange metal mechanical constructs, and some were just barbaric mutants draped in animal skins, holding incongruous guns they had stolen from who-knows-where.

Looking at the models, it's surprising that most of them are Autogun, which is utterly ridiculous when you think about it—but their sheer numbers make up for this absurdity.

This was undoubtedly a scene of world-ending destruction, something Kaul could see all too clearly. He also understood that this was merely an appetizer.

He couldn't help but think with a slightly darker tone that if this were a mission belonging to the Shadow Knights, he wouldn't even send troops off the tracks; he would simply issue Exterminatus.

However, now...

"We're attacking from the flank," a voice said over the communication channel, sounding calm and reliable.

Kaul felt a slight sense of relief—his brothers from the Mother Clan were always so reliable; among the Night Lords, the Night Lords were the least likely to have any concerns about combat discipline.

Unless their leader on the current battlefield is named Jago Sevatarion, they are perfect allies at every other moment.

The Shadow Knights took another deep breath, silently swept past the artillery position, and sped toward his brothers, only to hear a fierce roar halfway there.

"Kill--!"

That single word, yet the roaring sound was so powerful that Kaul wanted to immediately disconnect from the communication channel. He didn't even need to look at the flashing runes in the upper left corner of his eyepiece to know who was yelling.

Kaul stopped and looked up, only to find a crimson tide crashing head-on into the cheap cannon fodder sent by the Tzeentch.

The veteran Terminator of Crimson Claws were undoubtedly each capable of taking on a hundred men, but the enemy's numbers were far more than a hundredfold difference. Soon, they were completely overwhelmed.

At this moment, the only evidence that they are still alive is the limbs and severed bodies flying around in the demonic tide.

The Shadow Knights' Chapter Master let out a painful sigh from inside his helmet, then received another report.

"This is the Blade of Judgement. We are conducting preliminary preparations for the purification ritual. We need just five more minutes. Please make sure the enemy is away from the western position."

Good news.

Kaul breathed a sigh of relief.

The Blade of Judgement have long collaborated closely with the Inquisition. Although they are often given unpleasant nicknames, these protectors who always stand at the forefront of the Chaos tides don't care at all.

They knew what they were doing, and besides that, they didn't care about worldly fame—thus, they became the first Night Lords Chapter to use exorcism arrays and various mystical arts on a large scale.

Their database contains numerous proven methods for combating Chaos, ranging from exorcism talismans of unproven origin found on Fenris to the ashes of a certain Ecclesiarchy saint.

They'll use anything that works, with no taboos.

Kaul believed their purification ritual would be of great help in the defense of the camp.

He finally felt relieved and stopped overthinking. He drew his sword and charged into the demonic tide that was trying to invade the artillery position.

The Shadow Knights silently carried out their slaughter, standing firmly in front of the Calth soldiers. The muddy, bloody battle was gradually dragging everyone into this meat grinder.

The war had only been going on for about ten minutes.

The Hunter calmly clasped his hands together, as if in a salute, or perhaps as a declaration. His seemingly unremarkable action drew the gaze of the beast's eyes atop the spire once more.

"Ah, are you trying to summon him?" it suddenly asked, its tone now somewhat intriguing.

The Hunter did not answer, but slowly closed his eyes. Behind him, ninety-nine people were chanting scriptures, their language hissing, the syllables flat, somber, and majestic.

The literal translation is High Gothic, but it's just a four-syllable name.

Van Cleef.