Conduct a Holy Orbital Bombardment on Him!
"..."
There was silence on Sicarius's channel.
Who asked you that?
I just want to admire this sword!
"Alright, after we return victorious, I can tell you in detail about those three days."
Calgar seemed oblivious to his colleague's frustration and continued in that warm, nostalgic tone:
"My father even cooked a Old Terra dish himself, called 'Pork Stew with Vermicelli'."
"Sicarius, you can't imagine the taste. It's a feast that transcends the limits of human taste buds..."
"But now."
His tone suddenly turned cold, switching back to the sternness befitting Chapter Master:
"Let us first cleanse this filthy star for our father!"
His command resounded through the command channel in the minds of all the soldiers:
"All troops, attack!"
In the name of the Emperor and the Gene-Father, purify this land!
A thousand streaks of light swooped down at speeds exceeding Mach 22, tearing the air apart and producing a continuous rumble of thunder.
Each of them is a precision-guided artillery shell with its own will and tireless dedication.
The mission of these warriors was to kill all the living believers on the planet before them.
In terms of efficiency, Guilliman arrived with a massive fleet and ample ammunition, making it entirely possible to launch a sacred orbital bombardment of the planet before him.
So why bother with planetary boarding, a seemingly thankless and arduous undertaking?
It is common knowledge that all of the Imperium's interstellar battles are for the purpose of boarding.
Fighting between warships requires boarding; fighting between planets requires boarding!
Take this planet for example. It has been corrupted by the power of the evil god Slaanesh. If we were to launch a holy orbital bombardment at it now, the orbital bombardment itself might be distorted.
This distortion is entirely uncertain, much like the waaagh energy of the Orks.
If a planet is occupied by a large number of Orks, their combined waaagh energy will form a special protective shield on the planet.
With this protective shield, the power of the sacred orbital bombardment will be greatly reduced.
Therefore, to deal with a planet occupied by the Orks, the usual method is to send Space Marines to the planet to kill off a large portion of the Orks.
Then, a sacred orbital bombardment will be launched over the entire planet.
The situation is the same now; after Calgar and the Ultramarines lead the Ultramarines to wipe out Slaanesh cultists on this planet.
Guilliman will then launch a sacred orbital bombardment of this planet!
After countless shells blast through the area, the planet will be temporarily reduced to a dead star, and Guilliman will plant special plants from the planet Vitruum here.
Those tall, Blue Corn will quickly help the planet form an atmosphere and rapidly absorb radiation.
Within two years, this planet can be transformed into a habitable granary.
Deep within the city center, in the heart of that colossal palace of flesh and blood twisted from the cathedral.
Two of Slaanesh's favorites are enjoying a part of their "eternal Pleasure."
A former warrior of the Emperor's Children Legion, now a Chaos Lord with an eerily handsome face and bewitching amethyst armor, leaned lazily on his throne.
A Sisters of Battle has been completely corrupted.
Her former vow of chastity has long been distorted into a pursuit of extreme pain and pleasure.
His once serious face was now completely unrecognizable, his mouth split open, revealing a long tongue covered in barbs.
He was no different from the Emperor's Children standing beside him.
"Bang!"
The heavy palace gates, a fusion of flesh and metal, were smashed open by a giant hand encased in blue-gold Power Fist, sending fragments flying.
Calgar and Sicarius stepped in side by side, the Purity Seals on their Power Armour shining brightly, dispelling the dense, decadent Psionic Energy in the room.
"Ah... Ultramarines."
The fallen Emperor's Children slowly rose, gracefully pushing away the nun clinging to him, a nonchalant sneer on his face:
"Your efficiency is becoming increasingly disappointing."
Let me guess, is it that same old tune of ' the Emperor's Judgment is about to descend' again?
A cruel yet excited smile spread across the Sisters of Battle's face as she drew a curved, writhing demonic blade from her waist.
She was another Chaos Lord in this place, a companion who had been corrupted and "promoted" by the Emperor's Children.
Together they corrupted the world, reaped souls, and manipulated the Imperium forces that came to punish them, as if enjoying a never-ending drama.
"The Emperor's Wrath will not hesitate for a moment, traitor."
Calgar stepped forward and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.
The holy sword bestowed by Guilliman seemed to sense its master's fighting spirit, and a deep, melodious hum emanated from its scabbard.
A blue-gold light burst forth from the sheath, causing the surrounding Slaanesh Psionic Energy to dissipate like ice and snow encountering boiling oil.
Your end was already predetermined.
Your head will be my offering to the Gene-Father."
"It's that same old cliché again, it's getting more and more boring."
The Emperor's Children scoffed and gracefully drew his sword.
A strange weapon forged from dark purple crystal and exotic metals, its blade seemingly flowing with liquid desire.
"My Primarch, my dear Fulgrim, I told you long ago that he would 'take good care' of your father."
And I will slaughter all his offspring, especially you self-righteous blue cans!
His figure suddenly blurred, and he pierced Calgar with an eerie speed far exceeding that of a normal Astartes.
The sword's path was elusive and treacherous, carrying the illusions unique to Slaanesh, designed to confuse the senses.
Calgar did not dodge, nor did he use any skillful sword techniques.
He calmly drew his holy sword, met the opponent's thrust with a simple vertical slash!
"Clang--!!!!"
A deafening explosion resounded throughout the palace.
The moment the two swords clashed, the mocking smile on the Emperor's Children's face froze, turning into incredulous horror.
What came from the opponent's sword was not some subtle force guidance or technique to break through, but a pure, brute, and overwhelming absolute power!
It was as if a mountain was collapsing, not a sword slashing down!
His exquisite swordsmanship, which he was so proud of, was rendered useless in the face of this torrent of pure power, like a reed trying to hold back a flood.
"This... is impossible!"
He was jolted backward, his hand split open, and tiny cracks appeared on the amethyst sword.
The opponent clearly only used the most basic slash!