Damn it!
It seemed that some forbidden knowledge from Chaos had seeped into the Chaos psyker's subconscious.
It showed him a version of himself that had been "corrupted."
"Throw it out! Throw it out now!"
"Don't let it corrupt our warship!"
The Chaos psyker looked at the part fused to it. Though the purified and banished area was small, he could clearly sense that the Warp presence in that patch had weakened considerably.
The Chaos psyker frowned deeply.
Damn it.
What method had they used to corrupt us?
Wait—if even one of their machines possessed this kind of corruptive power...
What about the others?
Who knew how far they could erode us?
Blasphemy!
What utter blasphemy!
The machine, low on power, was thrown out by Chaos thralls.
The corrupted area returned to its original state.
Even so, they had realized the threat posed by the Imperial warship before them.
The Warmaster's previous expeditions had been so farsighted.
Every expedition had been a strategic victory.
Below.
On the battlefield, Chaos forces were slaughtering the resistance army formed by the Lamenters and mortals. Every charge by their black tanks sent any enemy daring to block them flying, including Space Marines clad like iron cans.
Bullets rained down in torrents.
They steadily compressed the Lamenters' battle line.
The Chaos Lord did not want to play his enemies to death too quickly. He preferred to torment them.
Especially listening to their agonized pleas and screams—it filled him with pleasure from head to toe.
So what if they had fallen into the Red Thirst and Black Rage?
Weren't their lines still being steadily driven back by our slaughter?
The Chaos Lord stepped across a path paved with Lamenter and mortal corpses.
One Lamenter, with half his body blasted away,
still had the strength to bite