I Am Your Blade, Your Thunder

Blood Angels follows closely behind.

Their red Power Armours were like blooming roses in the golden sea of fire. Their postures were vigorous and their Chainswords in their hands were buzzing in the air.

They pounced on the struggling demons, one by one, one by one.

Those demons were torn into pieces under Chainsword, and the fragments were ignited by golden flames in the air and turned into dark green sparks.

A Blood Angels stood on a pile of demonic remains, looking up at the black sun in the sky, shouting loudly, "For Blood of Sanguinius!"

In that golden sea of fire, Dark Angels silently waved their Power Sword.

Their movements were precise and deadly. Each sword penetrated the demon's energy core, and each blow caused a demon to disappear completely.

They didn't speak or shout, they just killed and moved forward silently, like a group of Vengeful Spirit walking out of the grave.

Iron Hands's soldiers dragged out heavy artillery pieces from the cracks, set them up on the scorched earth and started bombarding them.

The cannonball exploded among the demons, blowing the rotting bodies into pieces.

Their movements are rough and efficient, like a group of workers working on a construction site.

More warriors came out of the rift.

The soldiers of Astra Militarum were wearing Cadia style Flak Armour, holding Lasgun in their hands, and lined up in a neat square formation.

Their guns were aimed at the group of demons still squirming in the distance, and then they fired in volleys.

The laser beams were like tiny rays of light in the golden sea of fire, densely packed and overwhelming.

Some people shed tears during the battle, not because of fear, but because of those relatives, comrades, and brothers who were taken away by Chaos.

Under the illumination of the golden flame, they finally had the opportunity to do something for the lost souls.

They want to burn this cursed land to ashes, and want to turn the screams of those demons into a requiem for their relatives.

Am I loyal?

I have always been loyal!

Emperor Ah, please lower your gaze! Please witness my loyalty and courage, please witness me acting according to your will!

I am your sharp blade, I am your lightning, I am your rage burning in the darkness!

The warrior of Black Templars walked on the scorched earth of Nurgle's Garden. His Power Armour was as black as an abyss. The golden lines that were originally only inlaid on the edge of the shoulder armor and the cross of the breastplate were spreading - they were not painted on, not painted on. It was plated, but seeped out from the inside of the carapace, like the magma underground finding cracks in the earth's crust. Those golden thin lines extended, bifurcated, and intertwined on the black armor, like a net being woven by the hands of some invisible god, shrouding his whole body in a sacred light.

He didn't know that his Gene-Father had returned.

No, he knows.

The great thirteenth Primarch brings Sanguinius back from the dead.

Gene-Father Ah, you are here too!

But at this moment, as he was walking on the burning battlefield, what came to his mind was not the face of the angel who had just been resurrected, but the silent black figure standing on the city wall at Siege of Terra ten thousand years ago.

Sigismund.

The first company commander of Imperial Fists, the founder of Black Templars, and the sharpest sword among Dorn's descendants.

He has never seen Sigismund in person, but he has seen the life-size statue carved with Blackstone in the Chapter temple.

The man was not wearing Power Armour. He was only wearing a black monk's robe. He was holding an unedged long sword in his hand, with the tip of the sword pointing down and resting on his feet.

His face was expressionless, but his eyes were astonishingly bright, like two solidified flames.

During the Siege of Terra campaign, were you in the same state now?

Have you also felt the power beyond the limits of the body under the light of Emperor?

Have you ever been, like me, rekindled by your father's gaze at the moment of death?

Physically, he may be stronger than Sigismund.

Smart Atoms's transformation surgery made his bone density exceed Adeptus Custodes, his muscle explosive power is close to the lower limit of Primarch, and his reaction speed is so fast that Great Unclean One's arm blades cannot lock his position at all.

The blade is sharper, Power Sword's power is adjusted to the highest level, and the sizzling energy field on the blade ionizes the rancid air of Nurgle's Garden, creating a burnt smell.

But at this moment, he was finally able to slightly understand the will of that ancestor.

This is not a state that can be achieved by becoming physically stronger.

This is a gift that can only be obtained by being accompanied by Gene-Father, under the gaze of Emperor, and under the leadership of the thirteenth son of great hope, Primarch.

His opponent is a Great Unclean One.

Not the common ones in Garden of Nurgle who can only spit and roar, but the real demon nobles ranked seventy-seven.

Its body was like a rotten hill, its dark green skin was covered with cracks, and each crack had yellow eyes. Those eyes had no pupils, but stared at him.

A huge gash opened in its abdomen, and countless slender arms protruded from the gash, each arm holding a rusty blade.

Their fight has been going on for who knows how long.

He drew his sword again and again and sheathed it again and again.

The big sword in his hand was not a weapon, but an extension of his body and the externalization of his will.

Every time the sword is swung, a golden arc will be drawn from the blade, and the arc will leave charred cuts on Great Unclean One's rotten flesh.

There was green smoke coming out of those incisions, and what was flowing out was not blood, but streams of dark green pus.

Great Unclean One was screaming, roaring, and slashing wildly with the blades on his arms.

He blocked most of them, but only a few missed his defense, leaving scars of varying depths on his Power Armour.

His breathing became heavier and heavier, and the breath coming out of his mouth and nose was no longer the warm human breath, but the hot air mixed with golden Mars.

His heartbeat was getting faster and faster, and the sound of "dong dong dong dong" echoed in his chest, like a war drum, like thunder, like the trumpet of the final judgment.

He didn't know he was dead.

In other words, his body had stopped functioning a few minutes ago.

The ultimate plague prepared by Great Unclean One invaded his body twenty-seven seconds after the battle began.

That is not an ordinary virus, but a forbidden toxin that Nurgle personally blessed and specifically targeted at Smart Atoms's transformed warriors.

It can break through Smart Atoms's defense in an instant, corrode the nervous system, and turn the most powerful Space Marines into a rotting corpse within a few minutes.

When he inhaled the poisonous gas, he felt his lungs burning.

The burning sensation spread rapidly, from the lungs to the heart, from the heart to the brain, and from the brain to every nerve ending.