Outside the main gates of the Fortress of Hera, the battle had deteriorated beyond any hope of recovery.
"For the Overlord! For Isha!!"
An Ember Guard let out a piercing howl. Her Power Sword pierced a Plaguebearer's chest, but a moment later, an enormous, pus-dripping Power Claw smashed her and her sword to pieces.
Liu Zhipeng panted heavily.
Even in the Avatar of Khaine's divinely forged metal body, he felt deeply exhausted. The armour on his left arm had shattered completely, exposing the inner skeleton and its flowing, magma-like energy. He had taken a crushing blow from Ku'gath the Great Unclean One's Plague Cauldron while shielding Saint Celestine.
"Damn it... why are these fat bastards so hard to deal with..."
Liu Zhipeng swung his Greatsword, the End of Lament, in a sweeping strike, batting away dozens of charging Nurglings like baseballs.
But before him, despair still stood in tangible form.
Mortarion, Nurgle's Daemon Prince, hovered in the air, watching the defenders below like a cat toying with mice. Beside him, two mountains of flesh were closing in-Ku'gath, foremost among Nurgle's Greater Daemons, and Scabeiathrax, Nurgle's chosen Greater Daemon.
"It's over... remnants of a false god..." Mortarion's voice echoed across the battlefield like broken bellows. "Even the gods of the xenos... will rot before the Plague Father's blessings..."
"Your breath really stinks, you know that?" Liu Zhipeng spat a mouthful of golden flame and turned to Celestine behind him. "Lady Saint, can you still fly?"
Saint Celestine leaned on her sword, covered in blood, but her gaze remained resolute. "As long as the Emperor's light remains... I can fight."
"Good. Then let's charge one more time." Liu Zhipeng raised his sword, preparing for a suicidal assault. "We're going for the one with the scythe. I'll grab him, and you hit him