[What's going on...]
Horatio entered his dark vision, but he felt somewhat puzzled by it.
Before him, the image in the Precognition Shard was a real-time battle on the bridge of a Murder-class Cruiser.
He saw the blasphemous ritual, a magic circle a hundred times more powerful than the remote summoning circle outside the Church of the Celestial Woman.
It was probably enough to summon a Greater Daemon of Khorne to descend.
Fortunately, he was not on site; otherwise, it would be questionable whether his mortal body could withstand such high corruption.
He saw Captain Afiel, covered in sweat, struggling forward as if pushing against a storm.
Suddenly, the Thousand Sons next to him began to tremble violently.
'Psyker Harmonization: Untouchable'
[Prosthetic emergency evasion, inexplicably harmonized with Farida?]
Horatio couldn't think of anyone else around him who was an Untouchable.
From a bird's-eye view, Horatio saw the evil light in the Thousand Sons' eyes turn into a terrifying darkness.
This black was the ultimate black, capable of devouring all colors.
The Thousand Sons' entire body, clad in their ethereal blue armor, began to tremble.
It rattled.
Everyone present noticed this anomaly.
Bang!
When the trembling of the armor reached a critical threshold, the Thousand Sons' body exploded.
A flash of darkness instantly burst forth, devouring the colors of the entire bridge, erasing the terrifying crimson and the sacred golden light.
"Ah!!!!"
The Enchantment Lord roared in extreme pain.
His Baroque brass armor was losing its color, and his goat-headed helmet seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, pressing down on him so he couldn't lift his head.
He realized that it wasn't the helmet that had become heavier, but that he himself had been greatly weakened.
"What did you do!!" he shrieked at the spot where the Thousand Sons had exploded.
Captain Afiel, felt the furious pain that had made his veins bulge and his head feel like it was about to explode, vanish.
It was replaced by an intensely nauseating, sickening feeling that made him want to vomit.
But it was still better than the former furious pain.
The Enchantment Lord had no idea what had happened; his long-planned conspiracy had inexplicably failed.
He had originally planned to use the Chaos Greater Daemon's summoning circle to force the Blood Angel Company Commander to launch a desperate attack against him.
When he stepped onto the first step of the brass command throne, the trap he had laid would send the consciousness of this master's beloved former Chapter Champion, the Watch Master of the Blood Angels, directly to the brass throne.
Then, his master would personally embrace this Blood Angel's youngest and most promising Champion Company Commander into the arms of the true god.
But his plan inexplicably failed. The sudden dark explosion instantly destroyed all his trump cards.
This filled the Enchantment Lord with terror.
"Hahahahahahaha!"
An ethereal, cunning laugh came from the spot where the Thousand Sons had exploded and disappeared.
"Was all of this within your calculations, Thousand Sons?!"
"You thought victory was in your grasp, but everything today was merely a treacherous game to please our Lord with your blood.
Your game is over, but our show has just begun."
The Psychic aftershocks of the Thousand Sons Red Letter Warrior Red Letter Warrior slowly disappeared, leaving only a chilling, cunning laugh.
The Enchantment Lord watched with trembling pupils as the Greater Daemon summoning circle and the powerful magic circle trap were destroyed, his mind paralyzed by the shame and indignation of being played.
He finally understood why he had been able to capture this Thousand Sons Red Letter Warrior Red Letter Warrior so smoothly.
And that mysterious gray-robed figure who had advised him.
[Where did that damned servant go??]
He furiously searched for the mysterious consultant who had advised him and formulated the detailed plan, his eyes filled with enough hatred to tear him apart.
But the person he sought had already vanished completely, as if disappearing into the darkness.
When he looked up again, Captain Afiel, had seized his moment of collapse and rushed before him.
The traitor tried to raise his weapon to block, but he felt no strength in his body, as if he had been drained of blood and his bones removed, leaving him utterly limp.
He watched helplessly as his final judgment arrived.
Rip! —
Captain Afiel, expressionlessly kicked the Enchantment Lord in the chest, where he had been impaled by his force sword, and then pulled the sword out.
This vile and cunning dark apostle slumped onto the brass command throne of the warship, the hateful red light in his goat-headed helmet finally fading.
The blasphemous scriptures written on human skin on his body were soaked and wrinkled with blood, clinging limply to him.
"Techmarine, overload the enemy ship's engines. Set the helm to target that Slaughter Class cruiser." Captain Afiel, let out a breath; the nauseating energy from the explosion dissipated very quickly.
"Yes, Company Commander brother."
As his breathing became clear and refreshed again, he felt a sense of relief.
It was like someone whose breathing had been stifled finally taking a long-awaited breath of fresh air.
"Battle brothers, we withdraw!"
The Murder-class Cruiser became a derelict ship floating in the void, but the Blood Angels still did not spare her blasphemous body.
The Techmarine skillfully hacked into the ship's operating system with the bionic arm on his power pack, setting the ship to initiate an engine overload five minutes later.
A Blood Angel turned the blood-stained helm, using his superhuman processing speed to target the Slaughter Class cruiser's inevitable path.
Finally, the Blood Angels reached the docking bay at maximum speed and boarded a blood-red Thunderhawk, rushing towards the battle barge.
This old ship, laden with glory, had already concluded the internal battle under the unstoppable assault, its defense forces having killed every single Blood God servant who had invaded, throwing their bodies into the void.
"Sir! The 'Bleeding Walker' is charging towards us!" shouted the observer on the Slaughter Class.
"Tell those eightfold sacred mark bastards to get lost! Quickly!"
"No response from communications!"
"Damn it, who in the hell is piloting that ship?! You, you, and you! Teleport onto it for a lightning strike."
The exasperated warband champion pointed at several renegade Astartes under his command.
Whoosh! —
When a wave of red light teleported from the Slaughter Class to the Murder-class, these Skullsworn Champions found the entire ship to be a veritable hell.
There were no survivors, no breath, no fear, only dead silence.
"Cancel overload!" the leading traitor shouted to his subordinates.
As a Skullsworn Astartes walked to the control panel.
Bang!
An explosion that shook the entire deck erupted.
A Techmarine's proximity mine exploded, its flames destroying the approaching attackers and also damaging the control panel.
This completely cut off their possibility of shutting down the plasma engine overload.
"Turn the rudder! Turn the rudder!!!"
"The rudder's capstan chain has been cut! It's just a spinning wheel now!!"
"No! No! No! Blood Angels!!!!"
Furious screams of despair echoed throughout the command bridge.
The Murder-class pierced through the very center of the Slaughter Class cruiser with a shriek, its sharp prow killing many.
Whoosh whoosh whoosh! —
The plasma engine's firelight changed from crimson to black-red.
The animated one-eyed daemon engine began to roar.
This irrational monster didn't care who it crashed into; it only wanted fear and screams.
The crew of the Slaughter Class, fellow followers of Khorne, satisfied its savage and greedy desires with their lives.
It roared, thoroughly pleased.
Immediately after, a flash of high-intensity crimson light burst forth from its belly.
Boom!!!!
The Murder-class, embedded within the Slaughter Class cruiser, exploded.
It transformed into a dazzling deep red plasma orb in the void.
Temperatures reaching tens of millions of degrees consumed the Slaughter Class cruiser, followed by an even larger, perfectly circular ion orb.
"How beautiful," Farida couldn't help but exclaim.
"Indeed, it's more shocking than the illustrations," Horatio replied.
This was also the first time he had personally witnessed a cruiser, a ship of such immense size, undergo a plasma engine catastrophic failure.
The two massive warships, in just a minute, transformed into countless pieces of void debris and dust clouds.
The fragments drifted in the vast void, becoming a permanent part of it.
The traitors paid the heaviest price for their crimes.
They were scorned by Khorne, whom they revered as a true god; their inept performance even disgusted the Ruinous Powers.
The Imperial Navy once again bravely fulfilled its duty.
The Blood Angels completed their vengeance.
And there was a fellow who had orchestrated the entire operation on St. Giles Festival.
The one who had played the Skullsworn and the eightfold sacred mark, two powerful warbands of Khorne's apostles, like fiddles, chuckled.
Khorne himself, though furious and hateful, at least enjoyed parts of the battle.
A world where only the lowly servant dogs, the apostles of Khorne, were injured, had been achieved.
Tzeentch: You think you're on the 8th floor, but in reality, I'm on the 9th. You will eventually pay for your greed and aggression.
In fact, Tzeentch's faction's plan, as mentioned in the previous plot (end of Chapter 87), was that Khorne's faction had expressed in the Silent Alliance their impatience to act against the Blood Angels.
And when this recklessness threatened to disrupt the entire Silent Alliance's conspiracy.
Tzeentch's apostle warned Khorne's apostle once, but Old K's apostle didn't listen.
And Tzeentch's style is that true prophecies and true warnings are only given once.
If you don't listen, I will make you suffer heavy losses and then kick you out of the plan.
So Tzeentch's apostles had already made plans to kick Old K out of the game, and make them lose both money and men.
Server Notification: Host [Tzeentch] kicked Administrator [Khorne] out of the game.
Of course, the plan Tzeentch's apostle spoke of was naturally not the true plan.
It was just to trick others into helping himself.
Those who don't obey are directly kicked out with heavy losses, and when success is at hand, the other two 'allies' are trampled underfoot, and he climbs up to pluck the fruits himself.
Everything was for Tzeentch's own selfish desires and true plan.