Chapter 136: Come On In
Romulus handed the report to Dantioch, his tone filled with a deep meaning, "The enemy commander is Idriss Krendl. An old acquaintance of yours."
"?"
Dantioch quickly took the report, his eyes scanning the data-slate.
It really is him.
Idriss. The same one who had failed to persuade Dantioch to turn traitor during the Great Betrayal, and who had then, in a fit of rage, besieged him, losing thousands of Astartes and an Emperor-class Titan in the process. Due to his extraordinary skill in political maneuvering, he had been lucky enough to avoid decimation by Perturabo after his failure, and had only been maimed, his four limbs replaced with steel. He had then been sent by his own Primarch to test the two Ordinatus Majoris that had just been swindled from the Lion.
This man was incredibly cunning. To reduce the combat risk, he had used the Emperor's Children, his allies, as test targets. To reduce the risk of being decimated, he had had his engineering captain report the experimental results and the new combat doctrine.
It was hard to imagine that in a legion that was so filled with an irresistible, stubborn obstinance, there could be such a smooth operator.
"Ten thousand years," Dantioch's eyes were filled with reminiscence.
The time in the Chaos worlds was distorted. Abaddon had a whole host of veterans of the Long War under his command. These resurrected elders were somewhat mentally prepared to meet their old acquaintances.
At the same time, Dantioch couldn't help but clench his fists.
These damned dregs of the forge.
He had died relatively early. After overloading the Pharos beacon, he had succumbed to old age and his wounds before the support from his dear friend had arrived. His understanding of Chaos was limited to that of a special kind of Warp-power. Before his consciousness had faded, he had even been worried about whether Lord Perturabo was doing well on the traitor side. After all, Lord Perturabo had always suffered in the Imperium, always doing the dirtiest, most tiring work.
He had also been worried about his battle-brothers, hoping that Lord Perturabo's temper would soften a bit.
And now, Dantioch realized he had been a clown.
Did these Iron Warriors need his worry?!
For the sake of power, they had performed all sorts of operations that trampled on human ethics with ease. To replenish their numbers, they had resorted to any and all means. They claimed to be fighting against the corrupt Corpse-Emperor's Imperium, but they were still using the power of the Chaos Gods, and they believed that they were the masters, not puppets controlled by Chaos, that those destructive powers were just tools to be enslaved and driven.
Wait a minute, brother—
What a coincidence. It doesn't matter if it was ten thousand years ago or now, every Warmaster thinks the same way.
Because their soul-composition was rather special, almost qualifying as an E-Daemon—no, as an Emperor's Spirit—the "Stormcast" could all accept Warp-knowledge without any barriers. After a detailed briefing from Ramesses, their understanding of Chaos was probably deeper than 99% of the traitors who had turned to Chaos.
No matter the reason, after turning to Chaos, these people were already on the same level as newborns. They were not worthy of the slightest bit of sympathy.
"The main force of this Iron Warriors warband is currently fighting a mixed force of Eldar on the surface of Optus. The local Planetary Defense Force has gone silent," Romulus said, looking at the serious Dantioch. "When the Eternal Crusader arrives, you will be in charge of the main assault."
"Understood," Dantioch said, seriously operating the simulation table. This was, to some extent, a grudge match.
"Arthur, come with me," Ramesses said, pulling at Arthur, seeing that he had nothing to do. "I'll pinpoint, you teleport. The enemy Eldar Farseer is on another level. I've tried to teleport several times but couldn't get through."
Ramesses rubbed his hands together, looking very impatient. These Farseers were not like the Eldar Corsairs that the crusade fleet had casually crushed. They definitely had some kind of Old One or Eldar God-level dirty tricks. No wonder in the records, a group of Farseers had dared to start a war with a Greater Daemon of Tzeentch and could even run circles around Tzeentch's chosen. If not for Slaanesh, their dear old dad, pressing down on them from above, the other three probably wouldn't have a very good way of dealing with these xenos.
"Alright." Arthur nodded, receiving the coordinate information that Ramesses had predicted with his psychic powers.
The Eldar ships were known for their high speed. You couldn't just eyeball a teleportation for a boarding action like you could with an Imperial ship. You could easily end up in the vacuum of space. He focused his attention on the information about the Eldar warship in his mind, and then, at the prophesied moment, he swung his sword.
SQUELCH!
Blood sprayed.
The surroundings suddenly became unusually quiet. The clicking sound of the cogitator operating, the sound of the engine vibrating the deck—all vanished.
Arthur and Ramesses appeared in a silent corridor. Before them was an Eldar guardian, who had been split in two from head to toe. Her soul stone was dim, empty. Clearly, this lucky soul had found an eternal rest.
"This environment is on a whole other level," Ramesses said, stroking the integrated wall structure of the Eldar warship, feeling the silent atmosphere. He felt like he had been transferred from an Ork steam-train to a high-speed maglev. It was said that these Eldar ships and their various equipment were all directly grown by the Bonesingers within the Eldar, who manipulated the wraithbone.
"Where is the target?" Arthur asked, observing his surroundings. They should now be inside this Eldar starship, completely unable to see outside. The veins that were deeply embedded in the wraithbone structure around them began to glow with a strange light. This should mean that their intrusion had been discovered.
"Let me see." Ramesses instinctively wanted to point at an Eldar and do some calculations, but then he remembered that Arthur had already killed him.
He then helplessly pointed at a daemon and reminded, "Next time you encounter a Farseer-type enemy, don't just kill them directly. I still have a use for them."
"Alright." Arthur nodded and, following Ramesses's guidance, began to move quickly through the ship.
CRASH—
Near the outer viewport area, a squad led by a Striking Scorpion Exarch charged out of an intersection. Behind their squad, a bipedal war-machine was guarded. A Wraithguard, a wraithbone construct driven by a soul stone. Its battlefield role was basically the same as an Astartes Dreadnought.
Why are there Drukhari here?
Reporting this question to Romulus and letting him worry about it, Arthur charged forward against the splinter weapons. He shield-bashed a Drukhari against the wall, and the blade hidden behind his shield quickly took its head. He then, like an ethereal afterimage, passed directly through the baptism of the Striking Scorpion warriors' shuriken-catapults and, like an agile hunter, pounced on the Wraithguard.
His dodge was unlucky for Ramesses.
"..." Ramesses threw up a void shield. The moment the damage was sent into the Warp, he pulled it out again, one by one, and accurately sent it back to their owners' heads.
CLANG!
The solid shield defended against the opponent's cleave. In a blur of speed, they exchanged two simple blows.
In one clash, Arthur's hand loosened, and the black sword was knocked flying, embedding itself in the head of a Striking Scorpion. His now-free arm grabbed the Wraithguard's head.
VMMM—
The servo-motors in his armor began to spin at high speed. With sheer brute force, he brought the Wraithguard down to the ground. Dragging the Wraithguard, he prevented it from regaining its balance. Arthur turned and pulled out his blade, the power field of his shield constantly micro-adjusting to block the damage from the surroundings.
Just as a Ranger was about to ambush him, he extended his arm, and the flamer pistol hidden behind his shield erased the upper half of its body from the physical world.
Then Arthur thrust his blade down with force, shattering the Wraithguard's soul stone, and then, like a dense, ethereal fog, he was gone.
When this squad looked back, the surging psychic torrent from behind them completely swallowed them.
"Perfect." Ramesses looked at the corpses on the ground. The soul stones were all empty. The Slaaneshi spells were still good. They could suck out an Eldar's soul with perfect accuracy.
"You damned monkeys!"
An Eldar Farseer, holding a long spear, rushed over. Seeing the corpses on the ground and the dim soul stones, he couldn't help but let out a pained roar. He had come in a hurry, with only a few scattered Warlocks and Howling Banshees at his side. Logically, it was very unwise to engage the enemy at this moment.
But this did not affect his confidence. The Eldar were born with amazing reaction speed and a tough physique. Although he was a psychic unit, these Farseers, just like the Astartes' Librarians, were not physically weak. On the contrary, with the help of their psychic powers, they were even stronger.
CRACK—
The knight ignored the so-called psychic shield. A hand like a steel clamp directly grabbed the Eldar Farseer's throat.
In an instant, the Farseer felt his innate connection to his psychic powers completely severed. All the spells he had prepared in his mind were completely useless.
???
Wait, is this reasonable?
CLANG!
A brief moment of confusion, and the Farseer was slammed against the wall. The superior racial sensory talent brought him an amazing amount of pain.
"Damned monkeys! And your damned witchcraft! Your ancestors should have been completely exterminated when they were still in the water!" The Farseer immediately knew he had fallen into a trap of arrogance. He could only start roaring in High Gothic with the most vicious words he knew. "The fleet of our great race has already arrived! The only fate that awaits you is annihilation!"
Before he could react, Arthur, who couldn't be bothered to listen to this guy's nonsense, quickly threw him behind him.
As for the Banshees... their psychic shriek, which could affect the minds of their enemies at all times, was instantly silenced.
"Why do you worry so much?" a voice asked.
A hand steadily caught the Farseer's head.
"Come on. Come with me inside."
(End of Chapter)