Warhammer: Saving Humanity Begins with the Resurrection of Horus

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Arek simply watched; he did nothing and gave no orders. The entire city's defenses were proceeding according to a pre-arranged battle plan. Although no one knew about the surprise attack, Roger Dorn's contingency plans included such a scenario, so the Empire was not entirely unprepared for what had happened.

Just like the spy who sabotaged the searchlight, who was secretly killed and even interrogated to successfully extract more Chaos believers hidden within the ranks.

The city walls trembled, the effect of the heavy artillery fire. The city's defensive cannons retaliated without hesitation, and an artillery duel ensued, second only to the one a few days earlier. Amidst the thunderous roar of the cannons, Arek heard footsteps behind him.

Without turning around, he already knew who it was—Thor Garadon, the third company commander of the Imperial Fist Chapter and the commander currently chosen by the Astartes in the entire hive city.

A resilient warrior and pillar, he is the longest-serving combat company commander in the history of Fist of the Empire, and like Lysander, he is a major pillar of this founding mother company.

The fact that Roger Dorn left him here demonstrates the importance he places on Halsridge's hive.

"The enemy used chaotic evil magic."

Galadon's voice was filled with anger as he looked at the warriors who had died in the trenches outside the city and let out a long breath.

"Our think tank has not yet recovered and has not detected their actions. Fortunately, we had a plan in advance, otherwise the situation would be many times more dangerous now."

"The most dangerous time has not yet arrived."

The old political commissar spoke, but his voice was devoid of any emotion.

"My lord, do not forget the message left by Lord Dorn."

"I know the enemy won't launch a direct assault easily. I've checked the chapter's database. The Iron Warriors... our Imperial Fist's nemesis. They may be a bunch of traitors, but they're not a bunch of brainless idiots who just charge around like fools."

Galadon's expression was solemn. Every Imperial Fist warrior learns about the chapter's nemesis after completing their recruit training. As their rank and authority increase, they learn more and are able to access the information recorded on the parchment pages sealed away in the Mountain Array's library.

Iron Warrior.

They were once the Empire's most renowned siege force, capable of breaching even the most fortified defenses. Their Primarchs, Peturab, were exceptionally skilled in trench warfare and the planning and execution of sieges. They possessed substantial long-range firepower, evident in their clashes with hive city artillery. More importantly, each of them was cold and ruthless, with an extreme focus on efficiency and talent. After their betrayal, these traits became even more pronounced, along with their ostentatious displays.

This extreme, head-on offensive is indeed not in line with their characteristics.

"Sir, may I ask you a question?"

"Based on your speculation, how much longer will it take for Lord Dorn to break through the storm and bring his troops to provide support?"

"I can't be sure."

Galadon shook his head, his voice filled with helplessness and bitterness.

"This sudden subspace storm contains immense power, engulfing the entire Amegidodon and its star system. In other words, Amegidodon is now a non-existent place in the eyes of the Empire's navigators."

"...Is their obsession with taking over the city also related to this matter?"

"That's right. All the hives on the planet are under massive siege. If nothing unexpected happens, they're probably trying to capture one of them to hold their ritual, so that the traitors and Peturabo can find their current location."

Arek remained silent.

This is a very troublesome time. At this moment, there are very few legitimate psionicists on Amegiddon, and most of them are either weak or have had their power drained when Roger Dorn used the artifact not long ago and have not yet recovered.

This made it impossible for them to use psionic energy to break through the storm and guide their team for quite some time.

They are a human empire; they are insane, ignorant, and dark, but they haven't completely abandoned their principles like Chaos itself. At least, they wouldn't do something like guiding a fleet through sacrifice, and they don't know the specific operation and execution methods for such a large-scale Chaos ritual.

"Isn't there any other way?"

“Our think tank, the Lyon Brothers, said there is actually another way.”

"any solution?"

Galadon fell silent, a look of hesitation appearing on his face, which bore a striking resemblance to Roger Dorn. But in the end, he chose to speak up about the method.

"If... there were an Alpha-level psionicist on this planet, the light emitted by his soul flickering in the subspace could provide the fleet with the necessary directional guidance."

Upon hearing this method, Arek frowned immediately. He understood why Galadon had hesitated when offering this suggestion. Putting aside the rarity and unpredictability of Alpha-level psionicists, this guidance itself contained a fatal flaw.

"That guideline isn't just aimed at us, is it?"

"Yes, the guidance is indiscriminate; whether it is our fleet or the enemy's fleet, everyone can see that light."

"That's a gamble, a gamble that Lord Roger Dorn is faster, or at the very least, not slower than Perturabo."

"That's one point. Another point is that Alpha-level psionicists will inevitably attract some unknown creatures from the warp. This is a very dangerous situation. The current environment in Amegiddon is very strange. The think tank says that although the barrier between reality and the warp is still functioning, it is extremely fragile. If we break the balance at this time, and if a powerful demon is summoned, things will develop in an uncontrollable direction."

Arek stopped speaking, and Galadon didn't say what he hadn't said yet—the think tank had actually offered him another solution: to find a stable gamma-level psionicist and then use a ritual to temporarily raise his psionic level to alpha level, which could also serve as a guide.

But are gamma-level psionicists easy to find?

Just kidding, of course they're hard to find, and even harder to find a stable one. The odds are even smaller.

Unless it's the Emperor's blessing.

Galadun sighed. Now, he needed to find a way to repel the onslaught of these Iron Warriors. Their frontal assault was undoubtedly a feint; their real attack would be aimed at the relatively vulnerable interior of the hive. And to achieve this, aside from airdrops, the only other method was…

The earth began to rumble. Galadon narrowed his eyes, raised his hand, and the warriors behind him quickly rushed down the city walls, heading towards the locations of the epicenters within the city.

"Boom!"

A crack appeared in the ground, and a gleaming drill emerged from the earth, followed by a massive carriage attached to it. Some ordinary soldiers were caught off guard and struck by flying rocks, but most took cover behind cover, gripping their guns tightly.

Eric had somehow arrived at the foot of the city wall, still accompanied by soldiers, but the latter now had a finger-length scar on his face—accidentally cut by a bone spike during the battle with the mutants.

Dust billowed up, enveloping the drill truck. For a moment, no one dared to make a move. Eric swallowed hard, not out of nervousness, but out of fear.

"You will be killed by them..."

The murmur reappeared, echoing continuously in his ears.

"Look at you, so thin and frail, your life so fragile, like a plate that would shatter if you fell to the ground..."

The babbling was gentle and persuasive, and the voice was so tender that it reminded Eric of his always kind and loving father.

He was a good father. Every time his son made a mistake, he would gently stroke his head and tell him it was okay, then grab his hair and make his head slam into the ground or wall.

The smile on his face...

Wait a minute, a smile?

Eric snapped back to his senses, gasping for breath. His back was soaked with cold sweat. Only then did he realize that the soldier next to him had been shot in the head by a bomb and was lying on the ground, blood gushing out of the hole.

This is...........

“Fire!”

Before they could think, the political commissar's voice rang out, and the light guns and logging guns unleashed their powerful firepower, charging towards the figure that emerged from the smoke and dust.

Eric didn't have time to think it through, so he raised his gun and joined the fight.

By the way... what were the soldiers called again?

He seemed unable to remember.

A bomb flew towards him, but Eric instinctively turned his head and dodged the attack with a fluid and effortless movement.

His soul told him that he had to move, or he would die.

At this moment, he was unaware of the extent of the changes that had occurred to his soul.

Chapter 237 Burrowing filth

Someone whispered, but he was already extremely weak. The consequences of being hit in the shoulder by an Astartes bomb were completely different from being hit by those mortal traitors' light lances. The latter might just leave a hole in your shoulder, and with luck, you could stop the bleeding quickly, or even avoid having to cut off your arm. But the former would most likely blast your shoulder and half your body to smithereens.

However, he felt that he was not dead, because he still had his own consciousness and could even feel his limbs.

He felt himself drifting naked in a space, between the boundless void and the dying sun, while the sound of ocean waves crashing against the shore could be heard from time to time—void, sun, sea—a strange combination that shouldn't exist in the same place, but that was the reality.

It is drifting.

drift.

Alone.

Icy.

It felt like being in an ice cellar.

fear.

The sound of the waves disappeared, replaced by the howling wind. This sound reminded him of the bombers used by the orcs, those bombers whose appearance was completely different from the Valkyries and Thunder in his ranks; they made this sound as they swooped down. The veterans would immediately drop to the ground to increase their chances of survival, but in reality, they did so with fear in their hearts. Even as a group of veterans, they would pray to the Emperor at that moment, hoping to avoid being blown to pieces by the orc bombs.

It is falling.

He didn't know how long he had been falling; time had lost its meaning, and everything felt like an endless torment.

He traversed an icy plain shrouded in snow and storms, his body battered and bruised by howling winds and snowflakes, and roasted under the scorching sun until he smelled like meat, only to be thrown into the cold, dark depths of the sea the next moment.

He had forgotten many things, even his own name. He fell and saw stars—countless dying stars, the largest of which was black. Although it was a star, its light was not warm; instead, it felt like thorns in one's back, giving one a sense of eternal silence and death.

A green streak mixed with gold and silver flew out and grabbed him firmly.

The putrid air and the chilling soul descended simultaneously, causing his body to tremble violently. He knew that this endless torment was finally over, but he also knew that he would soon be taken away by an unknown being to undergo another torment.

A real, deadly torment.

But he did not choose to resist. He had forgotten the meaning of resistance itself and was only thinking about whether he would die if he were to be tortured to death.

A sharp pain struck as hundreds of needles simultaneously stimulated his nerves, enveloping him tightly.

His blood was congealing and burning in his veins, and his heart was pounding violently.

He screamed—screamed, screamed again, and then fell heavily to the ground.

He fell and passed out.

Time passed, and he opened his eyes to see someone—wait, someone?

He frowned. He didn't know what the word meant, but he knew that was how he was supposed to address the other person.

He looked at the other person and examined him carefully.

How should I describe him?

he does not know.

He felt that the other person was like a child, yet also somewhat like an adult, like an elderly teacher, yet also like a vigorous miner in his prime.

There were even a few moments when he felt that the other person might not even be a real person.

"What do you remember?"

The person asked, its voice very low, almost unbelievably so. But when it saw the other person's lips move slightly, the voice automatically echoed in its mind.

He caught this in his mind, and a chill ran down his spine. He realized something incredibly terrifying, something no normal human being could do. Coupled with the previous issues, he felt an unprecedented fear. He curled up and backed away, wanting to get away from this person who had been in front of him ever since he opened his eyes.

The person stood there watching him, seemingly sighing, yet not quite. He continued walking backward, and the further he went, the stronger a sense of peace became. He liked this feeling, he liked it very, very much.