Chapter 176 The Blond Beast (2)

There were countless great deeds left unfinished by the beings in the chamber, for Horus knew they would never have the chance to fulfill them.

——Horus, his thoughts after seeing the training cabin No. 11

——————

apple.

The word suddenly occurred to Morgan.

Apple, an apple.

A delicacy belonging to the phylum Angiosperm, Rosaceae, and Malus. They have long been extinct in Holy Terra and most of the worlds in this empty galaxy, or they are similar to most things in the current universe. Like common sense, it has become something that has nothing to do with the original definition thousands of years ago.

After all, how many existences can withstand the baptism of time and stand proudly at the end of the long stream of time?

…

apple.

She forgot what it looked like, she forgot its luster and color, as if she had never seen it before.

But Morgan remembered its taste. She remembered how the slightly sweet flow would nourish her when her teeth bit through the thin and crispy skin, carefully cutting and sucking the meat and juice. The tongue played between her teeth, and then ordered her throat to move every muscle to swallow it bit by bit.

How delicious.

How sweet.

Not to mention the countless screams and cries that accompanied it.

There are few delicacies like this in the world.

So rare, so scarce, she tried her best, but only tasted a few of them. On the battlefield of the fall of her blood relatives and the end of the world, she picked the apples and put them into her mouth.

That seems like a long time ago.

Or... what happens next.

Morgan opened her eyes.

She was in darkness.

She heard a call: a feeble dream, a cold invitation.

Right in that darkness.

The blond beast, or rather, part of the beast, was waiting for her.

She opens her eyes.

She smiled.

She moves forward.

She was salivating.

——————

"This is a spacious place, how come we haven't discovered it before."

On the wall made of pure steel, Abaddon saw a detailed map, which clearly marked all passages and rooms within dozens of kilometers.

This is a huge kingdom, which is almost completely hidden underground. On this detailed map, a corner of it is revealed at random: intricate passages, spacious rotundas and underground squares, and densely packed storage rooms. The dormitories were like a honeycomb of compartments, so close that it was shocking, and at the very end of the map, there was a large area that could be blurred.

Abaddon nodded, and he knew what this blurring meant: it seemed that they were lucky, and they were not far from the core of this huge underground kingdom.

Thinking this, his eyes passed over the sign in the lower left corner of the map: this sign was also the only decoration and light source on these empty walls: they exuded a bleakness that was more terrifying than the cold air here.

It was an eagle, an eagle that was too sharp and solemn.

That was the emblem of the Eleventh Legion.

This is their place. If he guessed correctly, this should be one of the main command centers of the Eleventh Legion in the previous Randan War. It is the relic of the legion that mysteriously disappeared during the war.

Maybe they can find some clues here, or even survivors, to know what happened. Thinking of this, Abaddon looked at the figure looming in the darkness, dominating the Second Legion.

Presumably that Lord Morgan also had this purpose, but...

It's really eerie here.

The most reckless son of the Wolf Shepherd touched his dry cheek with some scorn: Abaddon didn't like this place very much. It was dark, cold, and there was no smell of war, sweat, or blood.

But he still came: after all, the Primarch, whom his genetic father Qian Dingzhiwan had asked him to protect, was the first person to step into this underground labyrinth.

At this time, it was already the fourth hour since the landing operation began, and the war on the ground was basically over. Under the fierce attack of the two Primarchs and 20,000 Lunar Wolves, all the aliens belonging to the alien army The fortresses and fortresses could not even hold on for three Terran standards, and the war turned from a fortress attack to a pure cleanup activity.

After losing their Emperor, these formerly formidable opponents seemed to have lost some core strength: they still fought fiercely and fought to the death, but they were no longer worthy of being treated seriously by the Astartes. Incomparably powerful warriors, they have gone from being throne-chasers capable of competing with the human empire to a mediocre alien threat: and threats like this, the Luna Wolves have been , and razed no less than a hundred of them.

Abaddon even felt a kind of disdain from the bottom of his heart: If this is Ran Dan, this is the so-called strongest enemy who made the Dark Angels bleed all over the ground, then it can only mean that the famous Six Wings Army also Nothing more.

Maybe the inner ring who have been famous for a long time are just a group of guys who are complacent based on their past achievements. If he can mobilize a group of gastalins, he will definitely be able to defeat the so-called inner ring veterans who are several times their number.

The son of Horus thought so, and he was extremely arrogant: he certainly had good reasons to be so arrogant,

After all, with the end of this so-called Ran Dan War, Johnson's knights can no longer challenge the reputation of the Shadow Moon Wolf.

From the moment the war ended, the Wolf God and his gray and white wolves were the most glorious force of the Empire, and would continue until the Great Crusade and the end of everything.

Abaddon thought so and was so proud, but his eyes did not dwell on such an honor for too long: although compared with his companions, Abaddon may not be a very smart person, but he still Is an excellent commander: in some respects.

The first company commander moved his eyes away from the detailed map. He looked at the cold and empty passages, assessing whether they could support Gastalin's activities, and in his mind, he thought over and over again He recalled every detail of that kind of map over and over: the more he recalled, the more he felt that this was really a huge thing hidden underground.

This unremarkable, unadorned passage alone is enough for six Gastalin Terminators to advance side by side, with a surplus.

No wonder those aliens wanted to build a fortress to block the entrance, and if the Lord of the Second Legion hadn't walked firmly towards the hidden door, the Moon Wolves would never have discovered this place.

But then again, why did those aliens completely seal the entrance? If it weren't for Lord Morgan's power, they wouldn't be able to come in anytime soon.

Abaddon blinked, and he ordered himself to observe the surrounding situation and things again: This underground kingdom has obviously been abandoned for a while, and all its lighting facilities have been damaged, leaving only a few people. A darkness that even the harshest sunlight cannot touch.

In this bleakest environment, even the Astartes warriors can only rely on the automatic sensing system and optical imaging system on their helmets to move forward cautiously in this shadow. The heavy armor was under the exquisite control of the Sons of Horus. The sound of stepping on the steel ground was no more harsh than a gently thrown stone, but in this extremely quiet situation, it was still shocking. Hear it clearly.

Just like that, this team: one Primarch, six Sons of Morgan, fifteen Gastaline warriors, and twenty-seven battle-hardened Luna Wolves, plus First Captain A. Barton himself, a team of fifty people, moved forward in this empty and uninhabited underground world, walking on a corridor that was too long.

Abaddon blinked, calculating the time accurately, and always paying attention to the communicator in his palm: long before he came in, he had sent a message to his genetic father. If something happened, he needed to ensure that Horus would Be the first to know.

But for now, everything seems to be fine.

Until the group of people reached the end of this wide passage and walked into a darkness that was too deep. Without the visual instruments on their helmets, even the Astartes warriors would not be able to see very far here with their naked eyes, but even if In this way, Abaddon can still barely recognize the environment here: this is a hall, a hall large enough to accommodate a mortal regiment. Its magnificent arc dome is at least a hundred meters away from the [ground] where they are standing, just like a reflection. The palace beneath the ground.

In front of Abaddon, the Lord of the Second Legion could see more clearly. She knew what was in front of her with just one glance.

This is a synagogue, an unimaginably huge synagogue, enough to accommodate tens of thousands or more people standing here, listening to the voice of the master of this underground kingdom.

It consists of a five-story grandstand, a broad central square and a fifty-meter-high arc-shaped embedded curtain wall. The arc dome, iron stone floor, and countless seats and standing signs exist in the tightest order. , there is a perfect but unshakable distance between them.

Standing anywhere in this palace, the scenery you can see will be exactly the same: empty grounds, cold walls, and the flag of the Imperial Sky Eagle will be hung in the highest or most conspicuous places, as the only Decorations, and on the left and right sides of this grand hall, are a hundred identical Doric marble columns. Starting from the entrance of the hall, they are neatly arranged, covering an area of ​​tens of thousands of square meters. The underground territory surrounds it and extends all the way to the end of this magnificent building and the most noble place: the podium.

The podium is the highest point in this great hall. It stands on a base with two hundred steps. It relies on a huge and gorgeous statue of an emperor that is almost exaggerated. Standing on it, you can easily overlook the In any corner, when the people below raise their heads and look up at the figures on the podium, the gap and difference in status will make anyone feel a sense of obvious admiration and emptiness.

Authority, collective, obedience, greatness.

Words like these would seem to echo in anyone's mind when they see this synagogue.

Morgan studied the statue of the Emperor, imagining her brother standing there, addressing his Legion.

Everything here is so cold and realistic: whether it is the almost undecorated walls and auditorium, or the ground that would like to be molded out of complete steel, or even the simple carvings on the emperor's statue, everything speaks volumes. at this point.

But on the other hand: in a vast auditorium that is hundreds of meters high and covers an area of ​​tens of thousands of meters, it is a huge waste of resources and space. Also, the wide and even meaningless passage they just walked through, and It seems to speak of the master's obsession with formalism and grand narrative.

Reason and fanaticism, precision and waste.

No conflict at all.

And judging from the fact that everything has been shaped with great rigor, there is no doubt that the owner here has received a lot of support: there are many forces that support his ideas from the bottom of his heart, so he has created this grand but wasteful underground spectacular kingdom. .

The Spider Queen even wanted to laugh. Once upon a time, she even believed that these Astartes warriors were the most steadfast existence, but now it seems that the method used by her blood relatives to control her own legion is actually not new.

The leader of the Second Legion even took about a second to think about what he could learn from the flesh and blood he had never met.

In fact, she'd been thinking about how to face her Legion lately: she wasn't going to be a terrible mother.

At the very least, she didn't want anyone to see the bad side.

This also shows that those warriors who are loyal to the emperor: no matter how much she dislikes them, she cannot use bloody or too obvious ways to make them withdraw. She must serve as a kind mother of genes, a relative to her. Other blood relatives, a more talkative person, appeared in front of everyone.

As for those stubborn Terrans who are destined not to be used too smoothly by her: they can retreat, they can be on the second line, and they can get a piece of possession before her growing desire for control swallows up the entire legion. Positioned with respect and dignity, they will be the best testimony of her gentle rule.

As for those who are not willing to do this: her blood relatives seem to have demonstrated to her how to use worship and community, glory and hardship to reasonably consume them on the battlefield.

Let those die-hards walk into the battlefield and smoke as much as they want, let them plunge into the craziest flames of war, die dignifiedly under the curtain of the Great Crusade, and obtain those useless posthumous names, let their The name will only remain in the mouths of all successors and on the so-called wall of merit forever.

She will throw them into the fiercest and most glorious battlefield, letting those Terrans serve as anchors at every critical moment, enjoying the closest kiss of death, and all they can get is a copy of the truth. Unaware, just cold death.

She had the patience to let them die on the battlefield one by one.

Then the Legion was hers.

Morgan thought, smiled, and moved forward.

But then, she frowned.

She felt something.

Without thinking too much, Morgan urged her will and stepped into an invisible door in the darkness: someone was inviting her.

The food speaks.

——————

Hector only felt a trance.

He patted his head to stay awake. This action took him no more than a moment.

Then, when he opened his eyes again.

His genetic mother was gone.

…

…

? ! !

——————

Confusion struck the group and lasted for several seconds.

While Abaddon and others were stunned, Hector had already raised his head, feeling the connection between him and his genetic mother, and ran out: five swift shadows flashed around him.

"…Follow up!"

Abaddon did not hesitate, and all the Luna Wolves immediately started fighting. Their heavy breathing and chaotic footsteps exploded in this dead silent hall, sending out countless invisible air waves, like the waves under the moon. A pack of wolves howled in the valley.

The Captain of Horus rushed at the forefront of all the Luna Wolves. The heavily armed Gastalin stood guard behind him, while the lighter Sons of Horus slowly dispersed as they ran. Draw an arc.

The synagogue was very wide, perhaps tens of thousands of square meters, but at the speed of Astartes running at full speed, it was quickly passed through.

Abaddon's vision passed over the majestic podium, and his perspective captured some problems: at the foot of this exquisite building made of marble and precious wood, there seemed to be something that particularly destroyed the beauty and overall coordination. Bloodstains: They look like they've been there for a while, taking on an exploded shape, as if something was being torn apart alive.

They crossed the podium and passed the steps in two or three steps. They saw more and more blood along the way, and they could even see some broken armor fragments and bones: obviously, something bad happened here. things.

In front of them, Hector was still advancing rapidly: the moment he lost the figure of his genetic mother, he felt some kind of burning object existing in his brain and will, guiding his steps. .

He didn't hesitate at all: until he saw something behind the curtain wall of the podium.

There were doors, ten doors in total, and something was wrong with them.

Abaddon's team came one after another, and the beloved son of Horus just adjusted his breathing and felt something in sequence.

He stamped his feet and felt that his iron boots seemed to be stuck with something sticky. He lost some strength and trudged to Hector's side.

He was facing a gate, where he hesitated.

Abaddon walked over and took a look at the gate: it was made of steel and was taller than two Astartes warriors stacked up, but there was something on it.

That thing: it occupies most of the door, has dense texture, and looks very sticky to the touch. It seems...

Moving.

Shadow Moon Wolf was stunned for a moment.

He touched it.

The next moment, he knew what it was.

"Gudong."

Abaddon swallowed his saliva, which was a sign that cold sweat was about to break down.

——————

That's meat.

It's breathing.