Several Bloodthirsters screamed.
Their screams echoed through the ship compartment, shrill and agonized, mingling with the tearing of flesh and the sharp crack of breaking bones like a symphony from hell.
Hercules darted among the Bloodthirsters, his movements savage and efficient. Every strike wrung a scream from a daemon.
He tore off their wings. The dark red, batlike membranes ripped like paper in his hands, and black blood gushed from the wounds, spattering the walls and floor.
He twisted their bodies apart. Those forms, coalesced from Chaos energy, contorted like braided dough between his arms, their spines snapping with a series of cracks.
He ripped out their tongues. Long, forked, and covered in barbs, they were wrenched bodily from their mouths, trailing flesh and saliva.
He pulled out their teeth. One by one, he pried those sharp, daggerlike fangs from their gums and tossed them to the floor, where they landed with a clatter.
Finally, he punched straight through their bodies.
His fists, wreathed in golden psychic energy, blasted through the Bloodthirsters' chests like cannon shells and burst out through their backs, bringing sprays of dark red blood and shredded organs with them.
The Bloodthirsters stiffened the instant his fists pierced them, then crashed to the floor like collapsing statues.
Hercules and the others wiped out the Khorne daemons that had invaded the warship.
The Bloodthirsters and Bloodletters that had once spread terror across countless battlefields were now cold corpses, strewn throughout the ship compartment.
Their blood gathered in dark red pools on the floor, gleaming eerily in the dim light.
The air was thick with the stench of blood and sulfur, mingled with the smell of ozone left by plasma weapons.
Hercules stood among the corpses, his body drenched in blood, his breathing heavy and rapid. Golden flames still