Chapter 48 Everyone Is in Chaos, but It Is Not.

Julius was running at full speed along the passage.

The sound of metallic footsteps echoed multiple times in the empty corridor.

The priest's scepter, book of scriptures and rosary beads on his belt swayed back and forth to the rhythm of his running, hitting his power armor and making a rattling sound.

The communication channel was still full of interrupted noise, but he still insisted on calling the Chapter Master and Elder Khadomo.

The Space Marine's modified double heart and lungs are fully supplying his strong muscles and breathing needs.

It should be right around the next corner!

Psychic energy began to surge, and he was about to shout at the chaotic scene he expected to see, but——

Nothing at all.

What appeared in front of Julius Robert Omar was still the empty, long gray corridor of the Destiny Steel that was illuminated red by the artificial sunset.

Is the pharmacist's workshop that far away?

The think tank apprentice looked at the time.

Fortunately, it hasn't been long since the departure. There are still nine minutes left, and he will definitely be able to catch up.

He frowned and started running as fast as he could.

In the blood-red twilight, the dark shadows of several birds fluttering their wings passed by.

——

Is what is happening now really true?

Or are we all part of a larger illusion - like a spider's web before it eats its prey?

That was the last thing he thought before Besak's windpipe and half of his neck were sliced ​​open like a hot knife through butter.

"Bang!" The Iron Warrior's body fell heavily, and bright red blood flowed freely on the ground of the Iron Blood. Somewhere in the distance, something screamed excitedly.

He received the blood, and He wanted more.

Presented by someone who should have been dedicated to him ten thousand years ago.

The man who came out of the vague fog had short white hair and white-blue eyes like blazing star cores. He had a bolt pistol hanging on his belt and his sword in one hand.

Parogov - no, this is not him, this is not the calm and elegant novice pharmacist.

This is an impossible person who appears in an impossible place through a body that was originally impossible to exist.

Every part of the Crystal Maze sings of a billion new changes as its master exults in the newly emerging threads of destiny.

At this moment, the faces of the young Imperial Fist and the original Imperial Fist overlapped through ten thousand years of time and space, and finally settled on a noble and resolute face.

Rogal Dorn broke through the fog and continued to move forward resolutely.

——

Dassadra once thought that the word miracle had abandoned them thousands of years ago, but now here, in front of him, a miracle did happen.

Even though his naked eyes clearly told him that the white-armored figure in front of him wielding the power sword with extraordinary and furious swordsmanship skills and strength was just a man who had only just officially become a complete Space Marine and lacked combat training, let alone combat experience. It doesn’t look like anything other than that face, and it can’t be anywhere else—

He blinked again, and the sharp data of the auspicious instrument warned him that what he had to face and fight personally was——

Praetor of Terra, seventh Primarch, master of the Imperial Fists, eternal rival that Perturabo seeks to utterly defeat, and the focus of the Iron Warriors' long-standing unsung hatred: Rogal Dorn.

Worth it.

Dassadra tightened his grip on his weapon, the pressure of the primarch's arrival literally making it difficult to breathe.

But on the other hand, just knowing that he could try to attack Rogal Dorn himself made the war blacksmith's blood boil again.

“I never thought I’d be able to do this and it’s better than anything I could have ever imagined!”

"In armor!" he roared, raising his power hammer.

"Heart is like steel!!" The remaining Iron Warriors raised their weapons and rushed toward the white figure in the middle again, like waves of steel that were constantly beating against the rocks.

Weapons screamed, explosions resounded, and the power sword was used like a chain sword. The long sword wrapped in an energy field smoothly drew deadly flash arcs in mid-air.

Bolts, hammers, and ax blades left traces of attack on the cobalt white power armor, and these tiny scars were accumulating.

After all, this was just an ordinary set of power armor, not the indestructible Auric Armor of the Primarch himself, but that didn't matter, Rogal Dorn could still fight, and the Imperial Fists still fought.

The sweeping force field blade split all the limbs in the path of his attack into two, and a clearing appeared around him consisting of large splashes of blood, bloody ceramite fragments and broken limbs.

The battle was brutal, but the Iron Warriors had no intention of retreating at all, because everyone discovered an obvious fact, and this fact alone supported the will of the attackers.

That is to say: although the body in front of me that has been enhanced by genetic engineering is unimaginable to ordinary humans, it is not the demigod body of the original body after all.

The Seventh Primarch came without his usual weapons and armor. Because of this, all the Iron Warriors realized that this was a rare opportunity.

Their attacks became even more frenzied, attacking the Imperial Fists from all directions.

The rock is here, the steel wave is relentless.

Opportunities presented themselves quickly.

In a split second, due to the slow response of ordinary power armor, the besieged target revealed a flaw.

It was an extremely tiny, fleeting flaw. If it weren't for the extremely experienced veterans, they would never have used it as a fulcrum for attack. But unfortunately, this was an attack team composed entirely of Iron Warriors from ten thousand years ago, and they seized it.

Every living Iron Warrior was shaken by the supreme reward they were about to grab.

The beings behind the curtain began to applaud.

"Primarch, for the glory of you and the Lord of the Earth!!"

An angry war cry sounded from behind the broken door, and the flames of the twin bolt guns lit up in the shadows. The bolt accurately hit the side of the Iron Warrior who wanted to sneak attack him, knocking the latter to the ground.

Rogal Dorn manipulated the young body to turn around and knock down the rest, and then kicked the last one away with his foot.

Who is it?

He looked up.

A limping black shadow walked out, scarred and missing an arm.

"Father...!"

The Astartes held his bolter tightly with his remaining arm.

"It's you." He remembered this son. Although for some reason the features of his son left on that face were fainter and more blurred than in his memory, Rogal Dorn remembered him.

"Felix."

Quack!

Congratulations! Dear reader! You read this chapter at breakfast

Hehe, do you feel that new surprises accompany you today?

Because today is the first day, the update time is relatively early. Next, we will slowly resume the rhythm of noon + two updates in the afternoon.