Jaghatai Khan's arrival brought hope to the Imperial defenders, who had been on the brink of despair.
"It's the Warhawk."
"The man who speeds through the Webway is back."
"Quick, counterattack."
"Brothers, bring out our anti-matter cannons and blast them to smithereens."
"…"
The Players cheered excitedly.
"Charge!"
Dream Hall Hermit, a Player who had recently completed his Primaris upgrade, shouted slogans.
He activated the flight unit on his back,
and like a cannonball, he crashed from the city wall into the tide of daemons.
Many smaller Players followed suit, activating their thrusters and launching a counter-charge against the daemon tide.
At this moment, countless heads fell from the sky, smashing towards the ground.
Each one was enveloped in a dense green light.
As soon as a Player touched one, their power armor would immediately rust, and their flesh and blood would instantly turn into a puddle of blood.
The source of these launched heads was the Nurgle Daemon Towers standing in the daemon tide.
Their design was ancient, like trebuchets from a feudal era,
yet they possessed terrifying power,
easily capable of destroying the Imperium's technological equipment.
"The time for us to sacrifice ourselves has come."
A mech-style Player shouted,
"Brothers, with our swords and bodies of steel, let us open the path to victory for our allies."
"All mechs, charge the enemy's Daemon Towers."
The mech-style Players responded to this call.
They all piloted their mechs into battle.
Their activated energy blades sliced through corrupted bodies, making sizzling sounds.
Daemons constantly fell, trampled into meat paste by the heavy iron feet of the mechs.
"By the Emperor, we are invincible, we are fearless."
The mech-style Players pushed their back thrusters to maximum power, and sharp energy blades popped out from the sides of their mechs.
Accompanied by shouts of loyalty to the Emperor, he charged towards the enemy's Daemon Towers.
Daemons attempting to block them along the way were sliced in two.
The scene was terrifying.
"We are the Emperor's blades, slaying all enemies of mankind."
"We need no reward, for loyalty is its own reward."
"For Morgana, brothers!"
"…"
The mechs' loudspeakers broadcast the Players' shouts,
filling the Imperial soldiers on the front lines with passion.
If not for the commissars holding them back with guns, they would have charged together.
The Daemon Towers, built from decaying wood and skulls overgrown with slime mold, shot out beams of green decay.
The mechs' shields were continuously bombarded, rippling until they finally broke.
Anyone hit by the green beams would suffer rapid flesh decay, and steel would rust.
Brand new, gleaming mechs rusted and seized up within mere seconds.
The charging mech-style Players ultimately fell dozens of meters from the Daemon Towers.
However, his fall was not the end.
Behind him, several mech-style Players activated their thrusters, leapt up, and crashed into the Daemon Towers.
Amidst deafening explosions,
the Daemon Towers, shrouded in green toxic mist and the great power of the Chaos Gods, collapsed with a roar.
The defenders on the city walls cheered.
These seemingly crude and backward Daemon Towers had once been their nightmare, constantly throwing heads and firing green beams, destroying their vehicles and fortifications.
Now, the Daemon Towers were destroyed, and the greatest threat had vanished.
"Saturation bombardment." The commander made a snap decision, deploying all surviving vehicles to unleash their shells.
With whistling sounds, dense artillery shells rained down on the daemon tide, and scorching energy beams swept through the flesh constructs.
Amidst towering flames and deafening explosions, countless daemon bodies were vaporized into superheated gas, merging into the strange mists.
Jaghatai Khan ignored the Imperial forces and, leading his sons, continued to charge into the daemon tide.
He plunged into a large group of foul-smelling daemons.
Although they had many other names, they were most commonly called Plaguebearers.
They opened their rotting mouths, chanting Jaghatai Khan's name, attempting to hack at him with rusted swords carrying deadly spores.
Jaghatai Khan swung his scimitar, effortlessly cutting down the daemons that tried to block his path.
"You are not worthy to stop me," he shouted at a pouncing winged daemon. "Your souls are disgusting; get out of my father's realm."
The sharp blade was like a gale, shredding every enemy in its path.
Whether it was bloated flesh or rusted armor, nothing could stop the blade.
The daemons blew their infernal music louder, summoning more companions, trying to impede the Warhawk's advance.
But such efforts were destined to be futile.
Jaghatai Khan showed no emotional fluctuation. He had transformed himself into a weapon—
a weapon forged by the Emperor, plunged into the enemies of humanity.
His born mission was to fight for mortals, for the innocent men and women who wished to survive.
Jaghatai Khan carved a bloody path through the daemon tide,
defeating countless daemons.
There were tall, bloated Chaos Champions, war lords with their guts spilling out, giant monsters with tentacles and gaping mouths,
and elephant-nosed monsters with many eyes.
Jaghatai Khan also cut through a gruesome Nurgle band, carrying a drum with a screaming face.
It incessantly uttered curses before Jaghatai Khan cleaved it in two with a single strike.
All sorts of madness swept past him, yet failed to shake his heart.
During this time, Jaghatai Khan's motorcycle was destroyed once,
but soon after, he summoned a new one.
This surprised the Players who were watching him,
leading them to speculate whether the Warhawk had awakened his Warp essence,
allowing the Primarch to summon his vehicle anywhere, anytime.
Just as Jaghatai Khan was furiously slaughtering daemons and traitors,
several green beams shot directly towards Jaghatai Khan. He instinctively leapt up, abandoning his motorcycle.
Boom!!
The high-speed motorcycle was hit and destroyed again.
Jaghatai Khan landed, finding himself in an open space.
Six massive monsters lumbered towards him, surrounding him.
Their appearances were diverse: some fat, some thin, some melancholic, some joyful.
But without exception, they were all equally rotten, emitting a foul stench, and their weapons were made of rusted iron and green copper.
"Isn't this The Cursed's freedom-seeking son? I didn't expect him to appear again."
"Now, you are alone. Surrender."
Rain Father – Rotigus stood before the monsters and spoke, his voice carrying a foul, rotting quality.
"Protect the Warhawk!" a Player shouted.
High-level Players activated their thrusters, leaping into the sky,
then landing beside Jaghatai Khan, forming a battle line around him.
"I am not alone."
Jaghatai Khan twirled his blade, flicking off the blood.
He gazed at Rain Father – Rotigus before him, his voice low.
Rotigus swayed his corpulent body and walked to stand opposite Jaghatai Khan.
"But that changes nothing. Your defeat is already fated."
"Fate is not for you to decide," Jaghatai Khan gripped his sword tightly. "You proclaim yourselves gods, yet you do not know that in the vast universe, even gods will perish."
"Hahaha, want to make gods perish? Do humans have that ability?" Rotigus seemed to have heard a humorous joke.
"Not before, but now we do," Jaghatai Khan said.
"Then let us try, Warhawk soaring among the stars. I can't wait to break your wings."
Rotigus, carrying his rusted greatsword, swung it at Jaghatai Khan.
Jaghatai Khan calmly met the Nurgle Greater Daemon's attack.
The other Players and warriors who had followed Jaghatai Khan blocked the other daemons for the Primarch.
The battle between the Primarch and the Nurgle Greater Daemon was extremely fierce.
Jaghatai Khan possessed unimaginable speed, each strike incredibly tricky and difficult to defend against.
But Rotigus was not a weakling to be easily manipulated.
It possessed an agility that belied its bloated body.
The rusted greatsword in its hand whistled as it swung in arcs, and mysterious voices hissed softly.
Even the air was cut and corrupted by the evil power carried by the blade.
Both sides unleashed their true power, moving at speeds no mortal could achieve.
Any creature that came close would be pulverized, whether Imperial warrior or daemon, they met the same fate.
Rotigus possessed unimaginable vitality and resilience; it could fight on until the destruction of the universe.
"We can keep this up, but victory will ultimately be mine."
"It won't last much longer," Jaghatai Khan accelerated.
His blade moved faster and faster, creating dense afterimages in the air.
Even with advanced technological equipment, the Players couldn't capture his true form, because the entire battlefield was filled with his figures, and each one was real.
This was because Jaghatai Khan's movement speed was so fast that even time itself couldn't react.
Jaghatai Khan continuously hacked at Rotigus—one strike, two strikes, three strikes… countless strikes.
The fat on Rotigus's body trembled continuously; it began to panic a little.
Jaghatai Khan's ability made him realize something was wrong.
How could the opponent achieve such speed?!
Clang!!
After another strike, the greatsword in Rotigus's hand broke.
The frequency of attacks was too high;
even the daemon iron, empowered by Warp evil, could not withstand it.
"How is this possible?"
Rotigus's fat, rotting face showed surprise.
"It shouldn't be like this."
"You…"
Rotigus wanted to ask something,
but Jaghatai Khan gave him no chance. In an instant, his blade struck it countless times.
Rotigus hadn't even felt anything unusual before he saw his flesh falling off in chunks.
The scene was nothing short of horrifying.
Rotigus watched its body shatter, turning into a pile of rotting flesh.
Immediately after, Jaghatai Khan's blade cleaved its remaining head, banishing it back to the Warp.
With Rotigus, the commander, banished, the morale of the remaining Nurgle daemons plummeted.
Jaghatai Khan twirled his blade, flicking off the filth, and then joined a new battle.
Ultimately, they successfully repelled the Nurgle daemon army and defended the Imperial fortress.
But Jaghatai Khan did not linger.
After confirming everything was clear, he summoned his motorcycle and, with his warriors, once again plunged into the Webway to reinforce other Imperial defense lines.
A group of Players, driving mechs and fighter jets, also rushed into the Webway, intending to follow Jaghatai Khan into battle.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the Webway—Ghomorra—was also embroiled in chaotic combat.
The scale of the war here was far greater than in other areas; the entire city was engulfed in flames.
Ghomorra was an important Webway node. Once this place was controlled, it would be equivalent to gaining the Imperium's achievements in repairing the Webway during this period.
For this reason, Alex had planned to personally oversee this location.
However, Lorgar threatened Guilliman's adoptive mother, causing Guilliman to lose his reason.
Alex had no choice but to entrust the defense of Ghomorra to the younger Fulgrim.
Although the younger Fulgrim was not as formidable as his original self, he was far beyond ordinary people.
The Battle of Ghomorra became a meat grinder because the planners of this attack, besides Ahriman and Typhus, also included a heavyweight figure—Mortarion.
Mortarion's strategic talent was Primarch-level.
Even with his full strength, the younger Fulgrim could not resist and was ultimately forced to retreat, losing the main city and waiting for others to reinforce him.
However, Mortarion did not give him this opportunity.
After using a plague to break through the main city's shield, he led his loyal Deathshroud into the battlefield.
Even the Laughing God's avatar was defeated by him, forcing the younger Fulgrim to duel him.
Even though the younger Fulgrim had received the Emperor's blessing, he was ultimately not a true Primarch.
After an intense struggle,
the younger Fulgrim's sword was knocked away by Mortarion's scythe, and he was struck down.
Mortarion held his scythe to his neck, humiliating him.
"You are merely a false imitation. What right do you have to wear my brother's face?"
"Remember, you will always be a false imitation."
"Now, you can die. Die with despair."
As Mortarion raised his scythe, intending to execute the younger Fulgrim,
a dark shadow struck, blocking his scythe.
Immediately after, the shadow coalesced into a tall giant clad in black armor—
it was the Lord of Ravens, Corax, who was said to have always remained in the Eye of Terror.
As the citizens of the Imperium fell into despair, he returned as the Emperor's son.
The younger Fulgrim, weary and kneeling, felt a wave of relief and smiled upon seeing another loyal son return.
The claws in Corax's hands blazed with flames. Mortarion recognized them as those used by their father—the Emperor.
"How are his power claws in your hands?" Mortarion demanded of the Raven Lord.
"Go ask him yourself."
Corax's tone was disdainful. Having spoken, his body exploded into countless black ravens,
making eerie cries as they fiercely attacked Mortarion.
The ravens' beaks and claws seemed to be made of steel, incredibly sharp, capable of scratching even armor blessed by the gods.
For a time, Mortarion was beaten back, step by step.
After repelling Mortarion, the ravens flew back to the younger Fulgrim, re-forming into Corax before the cloned Primarch.
The Lord of Ravens' expression was cold, his gaze fixed on the younger Fulgrim.
No one knew what he was thinking.
After a long moment, he extended his hand and pulled the younger Fulgrim to his feet.
"Fight alongside me,"
he said.