Don't Worry About Where the Sweat Came From

It was useless not to believe it.

The Lamenter drew his Chainsword and charged again.

The Chainsword roared as it cleaved straight for the Chaos Space Marines' skull.

Die, you damned traitor!!!

The Chaos Space Marines blocked.

His axe blade caught the Chainsword. The teeth of the two weapons bit together, spraying sparks everywhere.

The Chaos Space Marines gritted their teeth. "Ordinary Astartes don't have this kind of strength. Have you been enhanced?!"

The Lamenter still did not answer.

His Chainsword kept pressing forward, while the Chaos Space Marines' Power Axe retreated inch by inch.

The Chaos Space Marines' eyes widened.

He had never experienced anything like this.

The muscle fibers of his Power Armor had amplified his arm strength to its utmost limit, yet this Lamenter before him was still overpowering him through sheer strength.

This was wrong. Very wrong.

Chaos's blessings had pushed his physical strength beyond the limits of ordinary Astartes. They should have utterly crushed the loyalists in every respect.

This was Chaos's advantage, the very reason every Astartes who turned to Chaos had done so.

Chaos had elevated them to a higher level, while the loyalists were merely mortals, pitiful wretches abandoned by the Emperor, people without gods who still prayed for gods—

The Lamenter's Chainsword cleaved into his skull.

Before the Chaos Space Marines could finish their thought, they knew nothing more.

[Weapon Enchantment (Against Daemons)] took effect, burning away the mark of Tzeentch within his soul and reducing his body to ash along with it.

Every Chaos Astartes on the battlefield experienced this absurd situation.

What the hell had these Lamenters eaten?

They could not beat them, and even when they did, they could not kill them.

The Lamenters Chapter's greatest weakness was its lack of Dreadnoughts and shortage of mid-tier combat strength.