The Emperor’s Angel of Death

#1939 - Sword of Transcendence

"Kill!"

Realizing the enemy was upon them, the three Slaanesh warriors immediately converged from three directions. Numerous mutations had left barbs and scales on their once-smooth armor, the madness infecting all their former pride.

But they were still among the deadliest killers in the galaxy.

Amnak, twin blades in hand, joined the corrupted Space Marines in a deadly dance of blades, darting through the sonic booms of chainswords and claws, using their terrible strength against them, moving casually around his comparatively clumsy foes. "Ah! Damn!"

A scream. Amnak guided the thrust of one warrior's sword to pierce another's chest, while a claw reaching for the back of his head stabbed into the swordsman's neck.

Then, with a spin and a flurry of blades, the three were reduced to seven or eight pieces on the ground.

Taiwan Novels → 𝕥𝕨𝕜𝕒𝕟.𝕔𝕠𝕞

Kaisar, watching the scene, muttered to himself:

"The Primarch once said that the three things he trusted most in the Legion were Fabius's hands, Vespasian's heart, and Akur-duna's sword!"

Although he recognized the former chief swordsman of the Legion, Kaisar, now completely opposed to him, could only raise his gun and fire.

But his bullets didn't hit their mark. Before he could pull the trigger, Amnak pierced a Slaanesh warrior's chest with the Charnabal saber, then pierced another's neck with the Holy Fire Sword, using the two as shields. The bolter rounds all struck their former comrades. →

As the broken corpses slumped, the figure vanished.

"So, do you remember Akur-duna's sword?"

The voice startled Kaisar, who turned to see the figure had appeared to his left, a sword piercing Andaross's chest—once a renowned master of the Blades of the Court. Though he had thoroughly abandoned his past virtues, his swordsmanship was second only to Lucius, yet he was easily defeated.

The fallen former swordsman's eyes widened, an incredulous sound coming from under his helmet.

"You're really Second Captain!?"

The figure chuckled, withdrawing his weapon and spinning it with deadly speed, splashing blood on the surrounding Slaanesh warriors, then punching Andaross to the ground.

"Soon, you'll know."

"Don't panic, everyone! Attack together! Trap his sword!"

Zhou Su, a renegade Space Marine from the White Scars, spoke calmly. Remnants on his armor still proclaimed him a son of the Khan. His weapons were power fists on both arms, with additional flamethrowers that could spew liquid fire to incinerate his opponents. →

Nine Slaanesh warriors, including Kaisar and Andaross, who had quickly gotten back on his feet after being heavily wounded, charged at Amnak.

Amnak gave a scornful laugh, striding forward like a shooting star, piercing one person's chest with a sword, decapitating another, then slashing at Andaross.

Unexpectedly, Andaross took the blow on his shoulder, using his sword to jam Amnak's Holy Fire Sword as he was almost completely impaled. Two Slaanesh warriors attacked from behind. Amnak spun, kicking one away and piercing another, but as he withdrew his sword, two blades slashed at him simultaneously. Amnak raised the Charnabal saber to parry.

At that moment, it seemed his arms were restrained.

"Die!!!!!!"

Zhou Su roared as he jumped up, the power fists on his arms crackling with electricity, the flamethrower nozzles glowing red.

Kaisar rushed from behind, the blade in his hand gleaming coldly.

Faced with this avalanche of death, Amnak stood firm.

Just as death was about to descend, he suddenly moved. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, then the Holy Fire Sword erupted with a half-meter-long silver flame, instantly dismembering the screaming Andaross. The saber in his other hand spun rapidly, using his palm as the center, bisecting two people. This was swordsmanship beyond Kaisar's imagination, speed and precision that no mortal could achieve.

Amidst the screams, the power fists about to strike their target fell along with the severed arms.

"Ah—"

Zhou Su looked at his severed arms, his black eyes filled with shock. A torrent of blood gushed from the stumps, soaking the deck beneath him. Then, his superhuman physiology immediately initiated hemostasis, and the power armor injected the last reserves of combat anesthetics and painkillers into his bloodstream and spine.

Then, his body lurched. The opponent's backhand sword precisely severed his left leg at the knee like a dissection. The severed servos and fiber bundles sparked with the gushing blood, followed by a slash that severed his right thigh.

Zhou Su fell to the ground, the former White Scar traitor reduced to a living corpse howling in broken armor, the little blood left in his body continuing to flow onto the floor.

Kaisar was stunned. It had all happened within his two breaths. By the time he reacted, the Charnabal saber was less than an inch from his forehead.

Staring at the sharp blade so close, beads of sweat slowly slid down Kaisar's pale, handsome face, along with his will to resist and the weapon in his hand.

"You are the only one worth surviving."

With that, the opponent twisted his wrist, the hilt of the sword slamming into Kaisar's temple, knocking him to the ground.

On the other side, Lucius paid no attention to what had happened, or rather, he was beyond caring.

"Impossible impossible impossible..."

The Prince of Slaanesh (toy) struggled on the pile of corpses, his eyes unfocused, his limbs weak. His lips and teeth, stained black with blood, trembled, repeating a single sentence.

The rapid withdrawal of the drugs felt like slowly peeling away his skin and muscles with a knife on his defenseless body. This sensation made it difficult for Lucius to breathe. He struggled to suppress it, but felt exhausted.

His pride, his self-esteem, and his perfection were all thrown into the mud and trampled.

He was almost driven mad, or rather, that would have been better.

But now he was terrifyingly awake, knowing unequivocally that he had lost completely, lost to the one who had once guided him.

"Tell me."

Suddenly, a sword rested on his head, the cold tip piercing his scalp, causing a slight sting, but in Lucius's dulled senses, it was barely a bite.

"If I kill you now, will you resurrect? Do you want to resurrect in me?"

Lucius hung his head, gritting his teeth, remaining prostrate on his knees. He wanted to stand, but had no strength, as if all the bones in his body were broken and his muscles had melted. His sword had fallen a hundred meters away, out of reach.