Chapter 343: Khârn Salutes You!
A bloodthirsty roar echoed in Khârn's heart.
Behind him, clouds of purgatorial fire surged. Khorne's bellow shook the battlefield, injecting unprecedented power into this war.
He was the initiator of this offensive.
He had orchestrated the assault that breached the first high wall and commanded the troops to pierce through three ring walls.
In pursuit of ultimate victory, he had staked everything. As casualties soared, this commander had moved from the rear to the front lines, seeking the glory that belonged to a warrior.
Khârn saw Rann's provocation.
Back then, he could only watch from beneath piles of corpses as Rann fought beside his Primarch.
Now, they stood on opposite sides of the battlefield again, looking at each other at eye level, standing at the same height.
Khârn looked away, still clutching the screaming rune, the Khornate daemons behind him following reluctantly.
As invaders, the World Eaters could not match the defenders in manpower, even with Khorne's blessings. The constant intrusion of the Butcher's Nails into his mind made Khârn uneasy.
Khorne had never given up trying to interfere with his thoughts. Under the influence of the blood tide, this feeling became clearer.
"Don't even think about controlling me."
Suppressing the bloodlust urging him to his death, Khârn cast these thoughts aside.
They had caused enough trouble for their opponents, but as an isolated force, they were on the brink of defeat. Before that, seeking death might not be so simple.
His gaze fell on the World Eaters.
They were crushed and killed in combat with more glorious warriors, and then their souls shattered.
The Blood God remained stingy. He tore apart the souls of those brave men who could not be attended to, hoping to shake the Great Angel, but unwilling to protect His so-called believers.
But Khârn was different.
He felt the suffocating sensation coiling in his chest, the voice entrenched in his mind.
That voice was driving him to his death, trying to drag his soul out of his material shell.
Clatter!
Under the fierce gaze of countless Khornate daemons, Khârn's body uncontrollably dropped to one knee.
He felt his primary heart beating faster, his secondary heart also pounding violently, as if this was the only way his body, having undergone too many corrective surgeries, could react to the fear he felt. His heartbeat accelerated, his muscle reinforcement organs pumping hyper-adrenaline into his blood.
Fear and shame coiled in his heart.
This made Khârn feel genuinely sorrowful.
He had fought all his life, and at this moment, he still had to resist the way of death arranged for him by the Blood God!
If he became the Blood God's puppet before that, if he could no longer control his body, if his gripped soul died prematurely...
The Blood God would let him leave, but He would never grant him a glorious death. He would fall into eternal torment like Skarbrand.
This was the price of resisting the Blood God.
The Butcher's Nails throbbed in his mind.
"No!"
A word extended from the tip of his dry tongue. Speaking it with the correct tone took more will than ever before.
His face, lowered toward the earth, twisted with hatred.
His headache worsened.
"I will not accept it!"
Khârn broke free from Khorne's control again.
He stood up, then turned his back on Rann's challenge, leaving in shame.
He looked enviously at the World Eaters going to their glorious deaths.
Charging into battle, knowing a glorious death was the only outcome—that was easy. Any Khorne Berzerker could do it.
But choosing to leave, choosing to flee, letting the gaze of a coward linger on his back—such shame tore his heart in two.
Hatred and shame reached their peak. Khârn didn't understand why he should bear such a curse.
But Khârn would not give up resisting.
He had to resist.
Because the torture surrounding him was not over yet.
So where should I go?
Where can I go?
Forcing his brain to stay awake, Khârn analyzed the battle situation. He didn't want to submit to the fate given by the Blood God, but he didn't want to lay down his dignity as a warrior and leave as a deserter either.
What should I do?
How should I resist the Blood God this time?
"Angel!"
A roar suddenly resounded.
Khârn looked up in alarm.
Following the roar, the Oath-Breaker cast his gaze toward the area shrouded by the blood tide.
That was the battlefield where countless Greater Daemons were heading.
The battlefield belonging to the Angel.
I want to go there!
A flash of inspiration struck.
He wanted to go there; he should run there.
He opened his soft mouth, pulled out his serrated axe, revealing broken teeth, and smiled bloodlessly.
The Nails began to throb again, pain returning to his head like a pulse.
Khârn looked out.
Theory was fine, but trying it was another matter.
He saw the Sanguinary Guard, the Crimson Paladins. Outside the battlefield surrounding the Angel, they built a solid defense line, intercepting all comers.
Anyone attempting to challenge the Angel had to pass through that insurmountable wall.
He saw them holding stubbornly, heard their weapons firing in full-auto.
This was unimaginable ammunition consumption. Khârn hadn't heard such dense sound for almost ten thousand years, unless in extreme situations, like now.
Khârn knew he absolutely couldn't pass through those enemy defense lines.
His gaze fell on the World Eaters fighting on the ring wall.
Akhhor, Rethrak, Lhorke...
These warriors fought bloodily with high enthusiasm, especially when they discovered that their fallen brothers were meeting eternal sleep. This enthusiasm reached its peak.
Martial arts proven by time were fully displayed, squeezing every inch of strength from their bodies.
With their help, he might be able to break through that defense.
But will they help me?
A nobody, a 'Regent' relying on Perturabo's tiger skin?
Khârn tried to send his request to his comrades lost in slaughter.
Yes, a request.
A World Eater squad carved a path on the chaotic stairs. Khârn's squad followed closely, covering the flank, trying to move closer to Karna's area, shields scarred by shots and ricochets.
Akhhor the Red-Bound was closest to him.
At this moment, under Khârn's surprised gaze, he was leading his company toward him.
Khârn opened the comms in battle.
"Khârn!"
A majestic voice sounded.
"Akhhor!"
Khârn never expected the other to respond.
"I'm coming!"
"I see you!"
"Brother, I need you with me! We go to the Angel!"
"Now? To the Archangel? Khârn, have you finally gone mad?"
Khârn was just about to explain when he heard Akhhor's laughter.
"Where do we start?"
As a senior follower of Khorne, he saw Khârn's current state at a glance.
This unlucky bastard was targeted by the Blood God again.
So he planned to continue resisting.
Squelch!
Akhhor buried his twin axes into the chest plate of an Argent Consul Terminator, then pulled them out, shoving the corpse off the platform with his shoulder.
Of course he should follow!
"Inside the second ring wall!"
Too late for gratitude, Khârn shouted.
"Northeast sector! I need you to break through the Blood Angels' defense, then deliver this damned me to the Archangel!"
BOOM!
Behind the Tucana Bastion, a giant cannon spat out a heavy explosive charge almost comparable to an orbital transport ship, hitting the first ring wall area occupied by the World Eaters.
Those scarred turrets, incomplete corpses, stones, and fragments fell like rain. Everything disappeared so suddenly, and the collapse of the high wall drowned everything in even more terrifying earth tremors.
Hundreds of meters of broken wall fell like a blade from a guillotine, landing at the base of the wall, shoveling up huge amounts of earth, overturning the open space and causeway behind the wall, crushing fifty thousand screaming figures on the slope into meat paste.
Then it tilted, smashing forward, burying the World Eaters and siege bridges clinging to it underground.
The collapse of the wall kicked up a sky full of dust, clouding the air for dozens of kilometers around the wall. The dust cloud rolled slowly and calmly, wrapping everything, taking all living beings into its mouth.
Stones and various debris were still falling pattering down.
Rann led his team forward in the swirling dust, obviously accustomed to precise fire support.
He walked to a World Eater who had fallen in front of him, pinned down by a slab of stone, trying to get up.
Rann grabbed his arm, pulled him up, and then cut off his head with an axe.
The corpse sank into a standing posture, then knelt with the curling of muscles.
He wanted to make him stand up, no matter what he had become.
Then he looked up, looking at the other end of the smoke.
A wall fragment more than five hundred meters long and wide fell to the ground. Under countless fragments, a large number of enemies were accumulated.
Blessings from Khorne allowed them to withstand the explosion damage to the greatest extent. The number of surviving creatures was unusually high.
Rann found Khârn.
He was still alive, followed by a huge team. Through the residual emblems on their pauldrons, Rann even found many acquaintances who were famous during the Great Crusade.
He noticed the direction these people were heading.
Rann subconsciously looked at Hal beside him. This indifferent War Hound's face also showed fluctuations at this moment.
His eyes widened, mouth slightly open, showing a surprised expression.
Khârn was heading for Karna.
The dark warriors of the XII Legion climbed over the battlements in the dust haze, but did not advance deeper into the bastion to destroy those Blackstone creations, abandoning those glorious strategic objectives. Instead, they rushed toward Karna's area without hesitation.
Khârn was surrounded in the middle. They swung weapons at the encircling enemies, driving them away from the Lord of the World Eaters.
"Lhorke! Lhorke!"
The 'Red-Bound' shouted loudly, parrying shields and blades, plunging axe blades into enemy ceramite and bone.
Now three people faced him.
Four, six, eight.
"Lhorke, tell the Regent! Where is the Archangel?"
Squelch!
Akhhor could ask no more.
A sharp sword grazed his neck. He fell to the ground, a gurgling sound coming from his bleeding throat.
"Khârn!"
Lhorke shouted loudly, filling Akhhor's position.
"The Archangel is there! The Archangel is there!"
Flesh flew, lives passed.
World Eaters around him began to fall one by one. The Khornate Blood Host was furious at this, breaking away from the team, and even began hacking at the escorting World Eaters.
But the World Eaters still charged the Blood Angels' ring wall, escorting their rebel, continuing to resist fate.
Six Crimson Paladins walked purposefully toward them. The World Eaters' Mutilators made aggressive clicking sounds and stepped toward them, weird flesh-metal fusions of claws, axes, and saws emerging from their sticky fists.
They intercepted the Crimson Paladins.
Then Khârn rushed into the battlefield, his axe swinging in a terrifying arc, cutting the enemy apart.
But it wasn't enough, not enough.
Lhorke's body began to burn strangely. His armor and muscles were expanding, his body becoming illusory, the skull beneath his cheeks visible as he collided with a Sanguinary Guard blocking him.
These butchers who suddenly went mad rushed over despite casualties, trying to approach the Primarch, trying to hold back these guards, blocking their return to defense.
The Blood Angels felt as if they were fighting daemons themselves. The World Eaters ignored injuries that should have completely defeated them, laughing wildly and unrestrainedly as they charged at the indestructible Sanguinary Guard.
In their center was a warrior not considered tall, wielding an ancient battle axe with both hands. Countless World Eaters followed around him, roaring war cries they had abandoned for ten thousand years as they charged.
They faced a powerful enemy with no chance of winning, but their charge never wavered.
The power glaives of the Crimson Paladins split them in two. Corpses fell to the ground in the bloody melee.
But they refused to retreat.
They ran firmly and unstoppably toward the center of the battlefield.
In the center of the battlefield, endless brilliance bloomed.
The Burning Angel turned all emotions into burning rage, the scorching spear tip incinerating any daemon daring to approach.
Cling—
A Bloodthirster wielding twin axes reacted extremely quickly, leaning back, pointing axe blades diagonally upward. The spear shaft grazed the axes, striking two bright sparks. Before it could attack, the Archangel spun up and kicked back.
Thud!
Instantly, only two hooves burning with flames at the severed stumps remained on the spot.
Whoosh!
Retracting the spear, Karna sensed the arrival of a new enemy.
Raising his gaze, amidst the pool of blood, he saw a World Eater warrior.
He heard the roar of the Blood God, containing anger and unwillingness.
No longer for him, but for the person before him.
"Greetings, Archangel!"
The World Eater shouted, running toward the Primarch, his voice almost ecstatic, swinging his great axe to launch his attack.
"Khârn salutes you!"
He laughed.
The moment of release had finally arrived!
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