"Boom!"
Another loud bang, and before the Sentinels could catch their breath or collect the bodies of their fallen comrades on the battlefield, it happened again.
Six minutes after the battle ended, a strange light glowed within the high walls of the City of Truth, and as the city gates reopened, the Slaanesh army reappeared.
As far as the eye could see, it was still those bizarre and enchanting Keepers of Secrets, led by Shalaxi Helbane.
After several rebirths, the demon army around it now included heavy war machines: abominable engines inhabited by demonic essence.
"Sir, we need reinforcements," the adjutant said, his voice hoarse and muffled in the command room.
A thousand Sentinels had repelled several demon attacks in the past hour, without a moment's rest.
They had suffered heavy casualties, but stabilized the front line again and again.
As the demon attacks continued, the number of casualties gradually increased, and the front line was constantly shrinking.
The demon attacks grew sharper each time, their numbers and types constantly changing, and they were continuously sending in more troops.
"We cannot call for reinforcements; moving personnel from other blockade zones would put us at a disadvantage," Ennio said, his usually gentle and refined face now stern and cold.
He decisively rejected the adjutant's suggestion, seriously considering the current situation.
When he left the Argentum, his father had only given the order to wait for Blazkowicz and then combine forces to attack the wizard's city.
Now, the City of Truth had launched an attack first, using an unprecedented method.
Those supernatural demons could not be truly killed; each time they were eliminated, they would reappear on the battlefield shortly after.
Ennio understood clearly that the demons' appearance and rebirth must be related to the City of Truth; the priests in the city definitely had rituals to control demons.
The demons' source of power and rebirth was undoubtedly a grand ritual.
But now, the Sentinels could not counterattack and enter the City of Truth to eliminate the source.
The city, built on the third orbital pillar, was protected by ancient technology: multi-dimensional shields, large energy shields, and void shields.
Before overloading the layers of shields, heavy firepower was difficult to project into the city.
And overloading the various complex composite shields would require an astronomical amount of energy and firepower.
Only ground infantry could enter the city, but the priests' psychic shields were a problem, and demon troops had appeared to block the Sentinels.
The demon army could not be eliminated and was eroding the Sentinels' individual combat advantage, pushing the battle into a strange, one-sided attrition.
Ennio stared at the holographic map, constantly recalling the day his father summoned him.
"They won't rush out," his father said with a firm expression on his haggard and tired face. "They won't launch a frontal assault until they have absolute certainty."
His heart trembled suddenly as he remembered his father's most crucial words.
They won't launch a frontal assault until they have absolute certainty…
Ennio gradually realized what he needed to do and resolutely ordered: "Notify the other blockade zones; order them to abandon the blockade and evacuate in an orderly manner."
The command room suddenly fell silent. Such an order went against King Nowick, and the messenger cast a look of confirmation for the order.
"The battle here is meaningless now; the precious lives of the Sentinels cannot be wasted here."
The eldest son finally understood that his father's strategic goal was to blockade, to prevent the City of Truth from spreading its influence, and to avoid the excessive misuse of witchcraft and psychic magic.
When the priests in the city attacked outwards, it meant they were ready for an offensive, and the blockade had lost its meaning.
After all, facing a demon army, the Sentinels did not understand them and had no way to counter their rebirth.
The current sacrifices were meaningless; they had to leave quickly and preserve their strength.
"Quick, be quick!" the Prince roared in a low voice, anxiously issuing the retreat order: "Tell them to leave quickly, not to gather in large groups, but to split into small units."
"Sir! What about the evacuation assembly point?"
The messenger also realized the seriousness of the problem and quickly inquired, confirming the assembly point after the evacuation.
Ennio's mind raced.
Unknown enemies were endless, and all the changes were brought about by the arrival of Blazkowicz from the sky.
When a flash of inspiration crossed his eyes, he had grasped the most crucial point, and a relieved smile appeared on his face: "Tell them to find Blazkowicz, to find my brother!"
At this moment, Ennio preserved the troops and, along with the hope of defeating the demons, entrusted everything to Blazkowicz.
Because he knew that in the ever-changing Argent Nur, no one was more trustworthy than Blazkowicz.
His most respected father also placed his hopes on Blazkowicz. He finally understood why his father so steadfastly passed the throne to Blazkowicz.
After arranging the military affairs and seeing the evacuation signals coming from various units, his anxious mood finally eased slightly.
"Sir, please evacuate quickly."
The adjutant handed over the anti-gravity motorcycle's ignition key, urging Ennio to leave quickly.
"Are you insulting me?" Ennio snapped, his calm voice filled with anger: "For thousands of years, there have only been Nowick people who died in battle, never cowards who abandoned their troops and fled!"
"I had no intention of insulting you," the adjutant said anxiously, taking off his helmet to reveal a sincere face. "But…"
"There are no 'buts' here, Adjutant," Ennio said, placing a hand on his shoulder, interrupting the adjutant's next words, and turning to leave the command room.
"Guard!"
"Here!" Outside the command room, the Prince's guard, always awaiting a call, immediately responded to their master.
"Let's go," Ennio said, lighting his long sword, looking at the fearless warriors before him, and behind him, the constantly shrinking front line.
He looked up into the distance, where Blazkowicz's battlefield lay.
"He should be finished with the Orks soon."
Ennio smiled slightly, his gaze sweeping over the defiled demons, finally looking in the direction of his brother and offering a sincere blessing: "My brother… may you slay all your enemies!"
Many soldiers who had retreated from the front line were leaving in succession after receiving orders. As they passed the Prince, they saluted solemnly: "Long live the glory of Nowick."
Ennio nodded in response. Of the thousand-man front line, only over six hundred remained after the continuous onslaught of the demons.
All who could evacuate had left, leaving less than a hundred to cover the retreat and those too injured to move.
The front line gradually contracted, and the Sentinels gathered around Ennio, using the rock fortress to block the demons.
As time passed, the Sentinels reached their physical limits; personnel continuously fell, torn to shreds by the demons.
Surrounded by purple hordes of demons, the white-armored Sentinels gasped for breath, forming a defensive circle with their backs to each other, weapons pointed outwards.
A six-meter-tall Keeper of Secrets stood outside the circle, looking down at the humans, an undisguised look of triumph on its enchanting face.
Ennio was in the encirclement, and the Sentinels around him fell one by one. Communications from the evacuating personnel confirmed they were beyond a safe distance.
"I told you we would meet on the battlefield."
The Keeper of Secrets that had appeared in his dream stood in an alluring pose, its twisted longsword pointed directly at Ennio.
"And then?" Ennio's tone remained the same, full of contempt and disdain.
"A bunch of twisted beings, defiled bodies, utterly devoid of courage and dignity."
"Devoid of courage?" Shalaxi's twin-headed sharp blade pointed directly at Ennio: "Mortal! Your army was scattered by us! You are a loser."
"By relying on psychic evil magic?" Ennio retorted, equally unyielding, his sword also pointed at Shalaxi Helbane: "False courage given by rebirth? You trash, how many rebirths did it take you to get up here?"
"I have a gift for you monsters."
Ennio's gaze swept across the diverse array of demons before him, and a brilliant smile appeared on his face: "You'll love it!"
From his lower back, concealed by his cloak, he pulled out a cubic object, held it in his hand, and pressed the switch.
"Antimatter bomb!" Isaac's terrified scream came from behind the horde of demons.
A relic of the Golden Age, an antimatter bomb, had been triggered!
At the moment of matter-antimatter annihilation, a hundred-meter radius around the blast center was obliterated, leaving a massive circular crater.
"Damn it!"
A curse suddenly reached Ennio's ears. He snapped back to reality; the antimatter bomb in his hand was gone.
"If not for the power of the gods, you would have succeeded."
A malicious voice came, and following it, he saw a feathered monster within a wide priestly robe, its claw clutching the antimatter bomb, staring at him and cursing incessantly.
Isaac's form no longer bore any human characteristics; he resembled a giant blue-feathered bird, with a yellow beak growing on his face and his arms becoming feathered wings.
"Time?"
Ennio's face turned pale. He quickly realized that something was wrong with time; Isaac had used psychic power to reverse time. "This is impossible!"
The demons swarmed, pinning down the few remaining warriors.
He himself was held down by a Keeper of Secrets, a hoof planted on his face.
Isaac's voice was slow and triumphant: "It was once impossible, but now I have divine blessings, enough to locally reverse time."
Several robed priests emerged from behind him, stripped the Sentinels of their power armor, and used daggers stained with foul bodily fluids to pierce their skin, carving blasphemous marks upon them.
"What are you doing?"
Ennio struggled but was held down tightly, the Keeper of Secrets' jewel-encrusted tail wrapped around his mouth.
"Let demons possess you, let you take us to King Nowick, to your brother."
"Mmmph! Mmmph! Mmmph!"
Ennio watched helplessly as magic circles were carved onto the bodies of the Sentinels, and then the Keeper of Secrets Great Demon transformed into purple mist and drilled into their bodies.
"You…" The Keeper of Secrets leaned in, its finger teasingly tracing his face: "I will leave your soul intact, so you can watch helplessly as you commit unforgivable sins…"
.....
"Clang! Bang!"
The clash of weapons was incessant. The two combatants on the arena had been fighting for an hour.
The aftermath of their battle was horrifying. The materialized ritual arena was deeply gashed by sword light and axe blades, and the sky was torn with fissures.
Without the arena's restraint, their battle would become a disaster, no less than natural calamities like earthquakes, tsunamis, or volcanic eruptions.
The Sentinels retreated far away, no longer paying attention to the battle's progress, resting as they waited for the outcome.
The scope of the human-demon duel exceeded their comprehension, surpassing the limits of the material realm.
Skarbrand panted, exhaling Mars. An hour of frenzied slaughter, over a million full-power attacks, and now a weary soreness seeped from the crevices of his muscles.
The power of the demons within him gradually subsided, almost completely depleted.
In contrast, the young god opposite him showed no ripple of emotion on his cold face. His chest rose and fell steadily, no sweat seeped from his skin, and not a hint of fatigue was in his eyes.
Was his stamina endless?
Skarbrand shook his head. Hot sweat poured from the grooves of his muscles, flowing like molten streams onto the ground.
For the first time, he doubted his demonic body. He called upon the power of rage again, but what surged forth was exhaustion and a sense of powerlessness.
Facing Blazkowicz was like an enraged, flame-forged battering ram crashing against a silent, towering wall built of composure and calm.
With each attack, the flames gradually extinguished, the rage dissipated, and the silent wall remained unyielding.
Even the twin axes in his hands reined in their ferocity; the chilling axe blades were no longer bright, conveying a message of fatigue.
Throughout countless ages, Skarbrand had never encountered such an opponent. Even under the suppression of the dimensional rift, his strength was further restrained.
Now he faced a terrifying existence whose body knew no fatigue and whose spirit knew no weariness.
The Bloodthirster wondered if, when the young god ascended to godhood in the future, the endlessly enraged Blood God would feel equally exhausted when facing him.
Blazkowicz remained silent, his light sword displaying exquisite swordsmanship, constantly clashing with the demon's weapons, relentlessly attacking the demon called Skarbrand.
His state remained at its peak, but the weapon in his hand warned him: the fusion battery, used for hundreds of years, was depleted of energy after countless collisions.
Both sides tacitly retreated. Skarbrand gasped for air, cherishing the hard-won chance to recover his strength.
Blazkowicz tucked the extinguished dimensional light blade at his waist and smoothly caught the spear Harlan threw to him.
He strode forward to attack. The demon's decline was evident; strike while he was down!
The spear blade lit up. The spear in his hand moved like a dragon, agile as a snake. Dimensional light blades swirled bewilderingly before the demon's eyes, forming a blue ocean that surged towards him.
Skarbrand retreated repeatedly, constantly discerning the true spear blade amidst the residual light particles of the light spear, shaking his neck to avoid being speared through the throat.
At this moment, he could only parry, completely unable to retaliate.
In one moment of retreat, a soreness shot through his waist, and his movement slowed by a fraction of a second—just a fraction!
Blazkowicz saw the Bloodthirster's opening. The spear moved with his will, and the light blade plunged into the demon's left armpit, lightly flicking to sever his entire arm.
Demonic blood splattered! Skarbrand knew he had failed. The Bloodthirster within him surged from the arm wound, leaving the material realm.
His power rapidly waned. Blazkowicz's attacks came in waves, light blades flashing up and down, piercing bloodied holes in the demon's iron-hard body.
The spear appeared and disappeared unpredictably. The rapidly weakening Skarbrand, holding an axe with one hand, staggered backward, his body tilted.
Blazkowicz spun around, thrusting the spear from his waist, piercing the demon's right shoulder, paralyzing his right arm. The spear blade passed through his body, its speed undiminished, getting stuck in him.
"Screech!" Skarbrand's cry was shrill. The axe in his right hand smashed to the ground, his body was dragged and spun, his lower half scraped bloody and raw on the arena.
"Hmph!"
With a muffled grunt, Blazkowicz, who had been silent throughout the duel, leaned on the spear shaft, forcefully pushed to the left, and flung the demon impaled on the spear away.
"The Blood God will hunt you..."
Skarbrand crashed onto the edge of the arena. He recalled how the Blood God had once flung him away like this, letting him fall.
He turned his head on the ground, looking at the young god on the other side of the arena, wanting to say something, but a spear pierced his skull.
"A demon's words are worthless."
Blazkowicz watched the demon disappear, then looked up at the burning, blood-red sky, his eyes resolute and silent.
A silent yet sharp inquiry.
He clenched his iron fist, ready, showing no joy of victory, but rather questioning the Blood God, asking if it was enough.
"Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"
Laughter echoed from the void. It was clear the owner of the laugh was very pleased.
The burning sky vanished, turning into falling blood rain. Night descended anew, adorned with a brilliant aurora.
The blood pool on the ground contracted, disappearing completely, as if it had never existed.
As the Blood God's ritual ended, the arena's brass and blood-red hues faded, becoming colorless, pale rock, then collapsing into gravel.
Blazkowicz pulled out the spear that had pinned the demon to the ground, feeling the surge of power within him, yet showing no joy. He looked towards the City of Truth, his worry deepening.
This was a game of gods, merely a meticulously arranged performance.
"How are they?" Blazkowicz gazed into the distance, sensing familiar footsteps approaching, and asked without turning his head.
"Spirits are high!" Harlan knew what Blazkowicz wanted to ask. The appearance of a god had shocked the Sentinels' worldview.
The Sentinels had always disdained vague beliefs, scoffing at the gods at the end of faith, those virtual idols.
Just now, a god... or rather, an existence as powerful as a god, had truly appeared before their eyes.
The impact on traditional thought was akin to dropping a powerful nuclear bomb into the Sentinels' ideological fortress.
"You're overthinking it." Harlan smiled, amused by Blazkowicz's concern.
"We are materialists. So what if gods exist? The universe is vast and boundless; there will always be existences beyond common sense."
His gaze suddenly became serious, and he looked Blazkowicz up and down carefully: "Like you, you are also an existence beyond common sense."
His words dispelled Blazkowicz's worries and lightened his heart considerably.
"Let's move quickly." Blazkowicz's slightly softened expression grew heavy again: "I have a bad feeling. Something might have happened with Ennio."
"Understood!"
Harlan quickly put on his helmet and ordered the troops via the communication channel to prepare for an immediate night march to the City of Truth.
Blazkowicz looked at the mess before him, clenching his hand, feeling the power within him, his heart far from calm.
After killing Skarbrand, his own power had surged. If he were to fight him again, he was confident he could defeat him within a hundred moves.
Staring at the departing Sentinels, Blazkowicz suddenly felt a fear.
If there were powerful beings called "gods," would he one day also be called a "god"?
His miraculous abilities, gradually manifesting with age, even allowing him to plunder demonic power, was he perhaps on the path to becoming a god?
What exactly was a god?
Recalling the Blood God, Blazkowicz's eyes narrowed. He was not like ordinary people; what he saw was naturally different.
Behind that void curtain was a materialized existence of an abstract concept, an aggregated entity radiating eternal rage.
A cool breeze swept by, and Blazkowicz instinctively shivered.
Not because of the cold night, but because he was terrified at the thought that he might one day become such a thing.
Trembling, he shook the inexplicable fear from his mind, retrieved the motorcycle that had been blown away by the Blood God's ritual from afar, and headed to the next battlefield.
Destroy the City of Truth as quickly as possible and end this gradually twisting war sooner.
Blazkowicz did not yet know that what awaited him was the crossroads of fate, a "small" game orchestrated by the gods.