Chapter 540: Gap, Each Party’s Plan

"Holy... In the name of the sacred Pantheon! I declare the meeting over!"

In the orbit of the Far Agricultural World, a meeting just ended in the pale spirit bone spaceship.

Alsteen, who closed his mouth in time, became more and more distracted in the eyes of the warriors who supervised him after the accident.

No, it was not like distracted. From his long experience of supervising the prophets, it was more like a terrible pollution.

But, any pollution has very obvious characteristics in the eyes of the tribe warriors of Uswei.

Whether it is the chaotic breath that is hidden but can still be identified with intention;

or the personality under the desire that is getting more and more out of control as the power of pollution erodes.

These are the only ways he has summed up in his previous supervision of those fallen people to identify them.

But, none of these.

Since the accident, he can be said to have kept a close eye on Alsteen.

But this trainee prophet, who was full of doubts in his eyes, not only did not have those signs of chaotic corruption.

On the contrary, after he secretly observed from a psychic perspective, he got the illusion that "this guy's psychic energy is purer and more stable"!

It's definitely an illusion!

The tribe warrior thought secretly, but the coldness lingering on Alsteen made him unable to deny it.

It was that kind of coldness that made him feel the clarity in the subspace with a little touch of psychic energy.

And it was also this kind of coldness that made him instinctively feel a kind of... fear when observing Alsteen?

On the ground of Fal, different forces are still closely entangled, and the little change of the Eldar here is even more imperceptible from a global perspective.

Deep in the hive city of Zerita, on the eleventh floor of the archives, Sura and his comrades are still fighting.

The blood and corpses fell in patches on the road they walked, and there were thousands of them without knowing it.

"Is it it?" Sura asked the battle sister behind him.

After entering the eleventh floor of the archives, they finally walked to the center of the building against the tide of corpses.

The number of enemies was still endless, and the combat mode of this team had also changed.

The heavy gunshots were no longer continuous, because the Astartes warriors only had two bases of ammunition;

The battle sisters took over this part of the function and began to attack the long-range targets behind the human wall.

"It should be." Miris left Padilla and walked to the servo placed in the mechanical altar.

She took out the universal data acquisition skull from her waist, and then pressed it down after a simple operation.

Kakakaka!

Amid four dense metal collisions, the claw-shaped port behind the skull was deeply inserted into the servo.

Then, there was nothing else...

"Will this thing break?" Sura stood on the left side of the team and fought. After clearing the tide of corpses in front of him, he turned back and asked.

"Silence!" Miris looked at the other party angrily, fearing that his casual words would become a reality.

"Praise the God of All Machines!" Miris chanted without sincerity.

I don't know whether it was the generosity of the God of All Machines or the blessing of the Emperor.

In short, after a long wait of several seconds, this ancient machine finally began to rotate its gears in a worrying manner under the flickering light in the eye sockets of the skull.

"The Emperor's blessing!" Miris prayed in a low voice, and in a blink of an eye, she threw away her admiration for the God of All Machines.

And as if in response to her "temporary faith" full of pragmatism, this altar slowly started and fell into a long self-checking procedure...

The team without the accompanying mechanical priest was like this, and could only pray that these ancient machines would not malfunction in the simplest operation.

But the efficiency of this servo was still far beyond their expectations.

The machinery on the altar was working slowly, and the sound of the gears and machine keys knocking slowly made the people who had been waiting for a long time anxious.

And as we all know, no matter in any religious belief, the altar should be placed in an open and unfavorable defensive position.

However, this geographical environment is the battlefield that this team least wants to choose.

The corpse tide seems to have no end, and the corpse wall is quickly piled up under the feet of the Astartes warriors;

The snipers and groups of rebel iron guards that appear from time to time in the distance are testing the concentration of the combat sisters while consuming their few ammunition.

Click!

The machinery on the altar finally stopped working, and Miris took the lead and walked to the front.

She picked up the parchment scroll that was spit out from the gate and rolled it up carefully, without even having time to read it carefully.

And Sura in the distance also saw this. The moment Miris put the scroll away, he used the communication channel to notify his comrades on the other side of the altar:

"Okay! Let's go!"

"Got it!" The two Astartes warriors swung their swords vigorously, cleared the corpse tide in front of them, and began to retreat slowly.

The battle sisters two steps behind them, while on alert with guns, began to tacitly occupy the fire support position of the team.

"Where to go next?" Sura asked Miris while marching, and the latter responded to Sura after a brief communication with Padilla:

"The encryption key of the collection has been approved, and the next step is to retrieve the collected data cartridge!"

"Understood!" Sura agreed, and then walked back to the front of the team.

In his seemingly calm heart, this seemingly endless task finally had a chance to be completed...

The team was moving forward, and the enemies were still pouring in endlessly.

But as the Emperor said:

The fire of war is the hottest furnace, allowing this team with differences to reach a tacit understanding in the shortest time.

And it is precisely such a test that can temper those heroes who truly belong to mankind and then stand out...

In the upper level of the Zerita Hive, deep in the palace of the planetary governor.

The Chaos Astartes warriors sitting on the throne no longer paid any attention to the battle in the archives after sending out the direct guards of the 8th Regiment of Torikov.

The whereabouts of the holy relics and the actions of the imperial troops could not cause him any sense of crisis.

And the root of this fearless attitude lies in the sacrificial ceremony to the Blood God, which he is currently focusing all his energy on.

"Enough, right?"

When the last "multiple of eight" sacrifice was driven into the blasphemous magic circle by his subordinates.

When the entire planet's orbit in the galaxy also subtly conforms to the meaning of "eight".

This fallen Space Marine who surrendered to Khorne, after countless restraints of enduring killing, finally waited for the moment he had been looking forward to.

"Yes, now it is my wish. I believe that the power of destruction will be pleased with your sacrifice!"

The hunched wizard answered softly, but the staff in his hand was quietly clenched.

He was afraid, afraid that this Space Marine, this believer of the blood god, would count him as a sacrifice at the moment when the ceremony was ready.

And this sense of crisis is not without reason. On the contrary, betrayal and fratricide within Chaos are also favored by the gods.

"Are you afraid?" The terrifying giant took off his helmet and walked towards the wizard in front of him.

His ferocious teeth, swept by the bloody long tongue, continued to open at an inhuman angle, and then completed a cheek-tearing smile in the wizard's eyes.

"No, this is the reverence for the gods."

The wizard lowered his head to avoid the collision of eyes, and then answered in a low voice.

He was unwilling to conflict with the believer of the blood god, but it did not mean that he had nothing to rely on.

The ring made of three skulls was on his hand that was exposed from the sleeves of his robe, and the holy emblem named "Seven" was also flashing on the back of his neck and chest.

"Hurry up, sir..." He advised softly.

"Lord Abaddon's patience is limited, and our mission does not allow any accidents..."

Second update.