Blazkowicz listened quietly. Although the fire of revenge burned fiercely within him, he still listened to the Elder recount the universe's past.
He was eager for revenge, but his warrior's education taught him one truth: to defeat an enemy, you must first understand them.
Gods, demons—these conceptual beings were mysterious and evil.
They extended their claws towards Argent Nur, committing unforgivable sins.
Prima lay on the bed, narrating the origin of the Warp's current pattern.
The intersection of the Necron and the Elder, a short-lived race's envy of a long-lived one, eventually escalated into the spark of a galaxy-spanning war: jealousy.
The reason for the war was so absurd. The Necron used "jealousy" to eliminate internal conflicts, making the immortal Elder their enemy.
The terrible war between the two races fully erupted. The Elder, guiding the power of the Warp, became invincible.
Utilizing the ultra-high-speed network—the Webway—they drove the Necron back, forcing them to retreat to their homeworld.
The Necron's defeat was inevitable, but they discovered the Star Gods, the gods of the material universe.
Under the Star Gods' deception, the entire Necron race's souls were devoured by the Star Gods, giving birth to the terrifying, soulless machines: the Necron.
The Star Gods led the Necron to breach the Webway. The deathless, lifeless Necron army completely defeated the Elder. "That war lasted a very long time," Prima's voice was peaceful and benevolent, yet still held an emotional tremor of regret: "A war that was long even for the Elder, it utterly robbed the Warp of its tranquility."
Blazkowicz sat cross-legged on the ground. Only Prima's voice echoed in the crystal room.
He lamented the grand and tragic "War in Heaven," and was deeply drawn to the ancient history.
"The imbalance of the Warp, without the guidance and appeasement of my race, completely devolved into a vile place teeming with filth."
Prima sat up from the bed, fine scales rippling on his face. His eyes surveyed his surroundings, choosing his words with extreme caution.
Blazkowicz became even more attentive.
The mastermind behind his father's death—he deeply memorized every word the Elder spoke, not daring to miss a single detail.
This was too important to him.
The Elder's explanation helped Blazkowicz peel back the layers of mist before him, pointing him in the right direction.
As for the truth of what he said, Blazkowicz felt that an Elder who had lived for over sixty million years and had no other kin in the universe had no reason to deceive him.
In fact, just now, he had pulled him back from the brink of death.
Gods—born from various concepts collected in the Warp, they are abstract beings of pure malice.
Their very existence is defilement, and they crave to harvest the souls of the material world.
But gods and the Warp cannot be conflated. Gods are gods, and the Warp is the Warp.
The concept of the Warp is all-encompassing; it accommodates all beings that enter it, even the chaos of disorder.
Gods are the extreme representation of chaotic disorder, and they are also encompassed by the Warp.
"To deal with the gods, the Warp is key." Prima waved the pipe in his hand, stirring the chaotic eight-pointed star formed by smoke into a vortex.
His large eyes fixed on Blazkowicz, he sternly admonished: "Boy, you must remember, the Warp encompasses everything."
"When fighting them, will is the key!"
Blazkowicz pondered, deeply remembering these words. The Elder's hint was certainly not simple, containing the profound secrets of dealing with the Warp.
One a newcomer, the other a pioneer.
The two exchanged questions and answers. Blazkowicz was like a supercomputer, constantly storing and analyzing, acquiring knowledge from the Elder.
The Elder's knowledge was like a bottomless ocean, constantly refreshing Blazkowicz's perception of the world and his view of the universe.
Prima, with half-closed eyes, continuously answered Blazkowicz's questions, teaching this mysterious demigod.
Over sixty million years, he had witnessed too many rises and falls, yet he had never seen a unique being like Blazkowicz.
They talked about many things.
After King Nowick visited Prima, he briefly left the cave, unbound the Orks on the battlefield, and tested Blazkowicz's abilities.
The null crystal was planted by the Elder to construct the vast Webway throughout the galaxy, and its various wondrous uses.
From the Elder's peak, to the tragic War in Heaven, to the Elder's demise, and the ascension of the races they uplifted.
"Was it your race that created humanity?"
Blazkowicz was a little surprised, a subtle, awkward feeling rising in his heart.
The origin of the human race, it turned out, came from a group of intelligent frogs. The creators that ancient humans desperately sought were space frogs in spaceships.
"Not created." Prima's long tongue licked his dry eyes, correcting Blazkowicz's wording: "It was a kind of intelligent upliftment."
"Our race has the means to create races, but we use it cautiously. Life is a miracle, and even if we can create life, we should maintain a sense of reverence."
"Don't say created. All the races our kind uplifted, after losing guidance, inevitably experienced decline."
He held his pipe, the smoke he exhaled transforming as he spoke, vividly describing to Blazkowicz: "Aeldari, Krork."
"The Aeldari had the most hope of becoming the next us, but they fell into arrogance, awakened a Chaos God, and self-destructed."
"The Krork, as weapons of war, the current scale of war cannot awaken the Elder's blessing."
There were many more creations of the Elder, appearing with the exhalations of smoke, only to dissipate the next moment.
The universe is vast, just like the constantly changing smoke, countless races rising and falling in the history of the universe.
"Only humanity was unexpected. Our race sowed wisdom on your homeworld, not deliberately choosing a specific species, but equally giving every species a chance."
"We don't know when humanity awakened wisdom; the Elder had already perished by then."
Prima, however, smiled somewhat unexpectedly: "But humanity was surprisingly, without guidance, able to forge its own path."
"Even giving birth to a powerful being." He did not tell Blazkowicz this sentence.
For the Elder, they imparted knowledge and enlightened species, but they would not reveal too much about fate.
Only by discovering and comprehending it oneself can true knowledge be obtained.
His gaze fell on Blazkowicz, and he muttered to himself again: "Now there's another demigod body with infinite potential."
Humanity truly is a race favored by fate.
Prima took a deep puff from his pipe; the tobacco in it seemed inexhaustible.
He sighed from the bottom of his heart at the unpredictability and stubbornness of human destiny; this race never lacked heroes and leaders.
"You said I have the right to challenge the gods?"
Having understood the past and present, Blazkowicz had an impression of the Warp, and finally asked the question that had been weighing on his chest.
The right to challenge the gods?
Blazkowicz knew nothing about this, not even what the right was.
"Of course you do." Prima glanced at the mark on Blazkowicz's chest: "For the owner of the right, the Warp will respond."
"Can you be more specific?"
The vague words were half-hidden, making their true meaning inscrutable.
Even with Blazkowicz's keen mind, he couldn't grasp what this so-called "right" was, and what the Warp's response entailed.
Prima took a deep drag, enjoying the tobacco with narrowed eyes, but just shook his head and did not answer the question again.
"Can I defeat the gods?"
Blazkowicz sat cross-legged on the ground, fury burning in his eyes, his iron fists clenching with a grinding sound.
"It depends on your own choice." Prima paused, then added: "But I have full confidence in you. Among all the powerful beings who have challenged the gods, you are unique."
It depends on his own heart?
Blazkowicz only wanted to flay them, disembowel them, and make them vanish into thin air!
"Hmmph~"
Harlan, who had been lying on the ground beside them, groggily woke up, shaking his head to dispel the pleasant sensation in his mind.
He stretched his body, his joints emitting a series of crisp cracks.
Harlan felt an unprecedented fullness, an endless surge of power within him. He felt he could defeat several of his former selves.
"My Lord!"
Seeing him sitting cross-legged on the ground, his eyes lit up, and a joyful smile spread across his face, a sense of relief washing over him.
His pillar of strength still stood!
"Thank you, Elder!"
Harlan knelt on one knee, expressing his gratitude to the Elder with a warrior's salute. He naturally knew that the Elder's blessing had transformed him.
"A powerful warrior needs a powerful weapon."
Prima patted the wall, and the crystal surged, spitting out a weapon. He raised his hand, holding it: "Elder Divine Weapon!"
An ancient, simple long spear.
The spear shaft looked like rough stone, and the blade was very long and wide, made of an extremely thin obsidian material, reflecting a deep black light.
Two strings of mysterious ancient script were carved on both sides of the blade, flowing like light across the blade's body.
The appearance of the ancient spear drew the gaze of both Blazkowicz and Harlan.
As warriors, they could naturally sense the extraordinary nature of that spear.
The Life-Forger held it with both hands, his peaceful voice changing its tone, as if chanting a war song, a glorious history of the past. He lightly kissed the spear shaft:
"Dark Radiance. It once wounded a Star God."
Prima raised both hands, concealing the nostalgia in his eyes, and tossed the spear to Harlan.
The spear was too small for Harlan; he found it awkward to hold. Just as he was about to politely decline, Dark Radiance automatically adjusted its size, length, and even weight in his hand.
Feeling the power of the divine artifact, Harlan joyfully swung it a few times, immediately knowing that it had transformed into the perfect state for its wielder.
Holding the divine artifact, Harlan again knelt on one knee to express his thanks, but Prima stopped him with a raised hand.
Such a divine artifact was covetable. Blazkowicz, rubbing his hands nearby, looked at the Elder expectantly.
"You will find your own weapon. It will be most suitable for you, and most worthy of you." Prima grinned mysteriously.
Blazkowicz felt no regret; now he only wanted to return quickly and seek revenge on the gods!
"Remember! The Warp is the key! Consciousness determines victory! The Warp will respond to those with authority!"
Blazkowicz and Harlan departed in a hurry, and the Crystal Hunter Hawk retrieved the flight motorcycle from the Warp.
Prima watched the two distant figures, then returned to its cave, retrieved an ancient mirror, and observed their movements.
"Oh, Gods. Playing with fire is destined to get burned! This outsider, perhaps, is an enemy to you filthy beings!"
The Old Ones were the first intelligent life forms in the universe and the earliest race to discover and utilize the Warp.
They clearly knew of the embodiment of evil lurking in the depths of the Warp, and worked tirelessly to calm its turbulent waves.
Since the destruction of its race, Prima had been hiding alone in the infinite dimension of crystal, believing that the entire universe was beyond saving, destined to become a plaything of the Chaos Gods.
Even that golden-shining human was doomed to fail.
Six months ago, King Nowick specifically sought it out, saying that a mysterious little fellow had descended from the sky to Argent Nur.
Prima, taking a great risk, prompted the Orc "Guzzka" to test Blazkowicz.
The runic mark shimmering on his chest caught its attention; it was a symbol never seen before.
Prima was certain that in its long lifespan, it had never encountered such runes.
It immediately determined that Blazkowicz was definitely not a creature of this universe, but very likely a powerful external entity.
Prima's emotions, which had been unmoving for millions of years, trembled with ecstasy; it saw hope again!
The demise of the Old Ones was largely related to the Chaos Gods; the last Old One to walk the universe was personally strangled by Slaanesh.
The ancient sage also harbored hatred in its heart, and it saw the hope of revenge!
Healing Blazkowicz without reservation, and bestowing ancient artifacts upon him to provide an additional boost, was a proactive investment.
Revenge!
Prima closed the crystal channel, hiding in the rift of the infinite dimension, watching Blazkowicz's fate.
Blazkowicz personally piloted the anti-gravity motorcycle, pushing its performance to the limit, traveling faster than Harlan's arrival, and returning to the Argentum in two hours.
He strode forward, heading towards the Throne Hall to discuss the revenge expedition with his brother.
"I disagree!"
Before he got close, Blazkowicz heard a sharp refusal, and it seemed a dispute was happening inside the Throne Hall.
"I do not agree to open the Old World Armory; those terrifying weapons will destroy us."
"The City of Truth has acquired some powerful force; a rash expedition is ill-advised. We should negotiate with them and stabilize them temporarily!"
Blazkowicz's suppressed anger stirred, his face darkened, and he strode forward with bloodshot eyes.
Outside the Throne Hall, the Throne Guards, seeing the War Lord approaching under a dark cloud, instinctively moved to block him, but Harlan, who was behind him, signaled them to let him pass.
"Go and invite the Forging Master," Blazkowicz whispered to a Throne Guard as he passed.
"We ———"
The doors of the Throne Hall were pushed open, and the sharp voice inside seemed to be choked by an invisible hand.
Many civil officials lowered their heads, their hands tucked into their robes, using the shadows to hide their guilt.
Only Flano smiled, laughing at the ignorance of the ministers.
With external enemies surrounding them and the King fallen, those with impure hearts began to stir.
Blazkowicz nodded to his brother standing by the Throne, his cold gaze sweeping over the assembled officials, the immense pressure making them instinctively lower their heads.
How dare they be so shameless?
Just hours ago, King Nowick bled in the Throne Hall, leaving behind all his preparations solely for the Argentum to have the power to defeat the Chaos God's minions.
Before his bones were even cold, a group of ministers, protected by the King, were thinking of negotiating with the enemies who killed their monarch.
The King's lingering prestige had not yet faded, yet someone dared to disrespect him?
"Who?"
Blazkowicz asked in a low voice. He naturally knew who it was; his extraordinary memory stored everyone's name.
"I think —"
"Slap!"
The robed minister's words were cut short. In a fraction of a second, his head spun and flew off, blood splattering on the blue glass.
Blazkowicz caught his head, brushed aside the hair at the back of his neck, revealing a vivid red miniature eight-pointed star symbol carved there.
The corruption of Chaos had already begun to spread; the common people in the Argentum did not possess the same formidable resistance as the Sentinels.
Holding up the still-terrified head in one hand, Blazkowicz ascended the Throne steps, displaying the evil mark to everyone.
"Do you recognize this mark?"
His gaze swept over everyone in the Throne Hall, taking in their expressions.
The ministers all shook their heads, claiming they had never seen it.
"A symbol of blasphemy! The mark of a Chaos God!"
Blazkowicz roared in a low voice; his hatred burned at the mention of those blasphemous things.
He knew the threat of Chaos influence, which would spread with knowledge, corrupting minds and souls.
The people of Argent Nur must know of Chaos' existence; their future enemies would inevitably include Chaos.
"There will never be negotiations!"
Blazkowicz's low roar was resounding, the resolve in his words as firm as a rock: "Here, there is only a life-and-death struggle, an unending hatred!"
His voice echoed through the Throne Hall, and the ministers trembled at his roar.
"Revenge!" Flano unconditionally supported Blazkowicz, raising his brother's arm and shouting for revenge!
"Revenge!" The guards standing by the Throne struck their gun butts against the ground, their suppressed roars filled with the fury of revenge.
Blazkowicz was now disinclined to use political means, aiming to quickly unify opinion and eradicate the Chaos stronghold in Argent Nur.
To uproot them completely!
"My Lord, why have you summoned me?"
The Forging Master, wearing a black forge robe with several mechanical appendages behind him, arrived, followed by two apprentices carrying a large box.
"Forging Master."
Blazkowicz nodded in greeting, then asked the master, who was skilled in calculation and forging war machinery: "What weapon in the Old World Armory can completely destroy Argent Nur, leaving no trace?"
"Boom~~~"
This question was like a bomb, thrown into the Throne Hall, exploding in everyone's ears.
They felt dizzy and a little unsteady, filled with dread all at once.
The Throne Guards, the court ministers, and even Flano Novick, looked at Blazkowicz in disbelief.
Their hearts were filled with questions: why did the War Lord want to destroy Argent Nur, this planet where humans had lived for tens of thousands of years?
They also considered that, without the ability to travel deep into space, destroying Argent Nur meant the extinction of everything.
Everyone looked at Blazkowicz, awaiting his explanation.
Blazkowicz stared directly at the Forging Master, also awaiting the professional's answer.
The Forging Master's nerve-connected mechanical appendages trembled under the influence of his uneasy brainwaves, and he raised a hand to wipe the cold sweat from his head.
Out of duty and professional skill, he tremblingly uttered four words: "Unsalvageable Elegy!"
"Argent Nur might suffer a bit, but it will be absolutely clean!"
Unsalvageable Elegy!
As its name implied, a painful but irreversible name, and Blazkowicz's heart also felt a touch of bitterness because of it.
Just as the Forging Master said, Argent Nur would suffer greatly, but it would be very clean.
Within the mechanical iron coffin of the Unsalvageable Elegy, a miniature black hole slept.
Once the protective device was disengaged, the black hole would expand, its immense gravity tearing Argent Nur apart piece by piece, then swallowing it whole, leaving no trace.
In the Throne Hall, the Forging Master's gaze also rested on Blazkowicz.
Everyone was waiting for an explanation, otherwise, even if it meant risking their lives, they would not agree to use the black hole weapon.
"Everyone! We have no retreat—"
Blazkowicz's voice was tinged with sadness; he also did not wish to destroy Argent Nur, but had to consider the worst-case scenario.
"If Argent Nur is not under the rule of the Argentum, not protected by the Sentinels, and leaves human control, what meaning does its existence have?"
"The situation is far more severe than you can imagine; our enemies are supernatural entities!"
After Blazkowicz finished speaking, he said no more, awaiting everyone's reply. The individuals in the Throne Hall were all important figures holding power, and naturally understood the sorrow in the War Lord's words.
They whispered among themselves, some in deep thought, others discussing in low tones.
"Agreed!"
"Agreed!"
"Agreed!"
Finally, everyone reached a consensus, agreeing with Blazkowicz's decision.
Yes! If the Sentinels failed, there would be no need for Argent Nur to exist either; let everyone be buried with it!
With a unanimous agreement, everyone left the Throne Hall. Although the Sentinels was on the front lines, ready for battle at any moment, affairs within the city still needed to be arranged.
"My Lord."
The Forging Master did not leave, calling out to Blazkowicz, who was about to depart: "Here is a gift from King Nowick for you."
Blazkowicz looked at him; the box on the ground was already open, and inside lay a heavy war hammer.
The long-handled hammer looked substantial, its handle wrapped in leather to prevent slipping, and its hammerhead was perfectly square.
"A weapon commissioned by King Nowick, master-level craftsmanship, it should be sufficient for your use."
The Forging Master introduced the war hammer to Blazkowicz: "The high-density alloy hammer handle is strong enough to withstand your strength, and the disintegration field on the hammerhead means instant death upon contact!"
Blazkowicz felt the weight of the war hammer in his hand; in fact, it was a bit light: "Thank you!"
His reply did not betray his father's good intentions, nor did it disappoint the Forging Master's expectations.
With the heavy hammer on his back, Blazkowicz turned and left.
He had to rush to the front line, assemble the Sentinels, and fight a decisive battle to the death against the Chaos God's minions!
Blazkowicz and Harlan worked tirelessly, arranging matters in the Argentum before immediately heading to the Sentinels' encampment to assemble their troops for battle.
With each passing second, the power of Chaos grew stronger.
To expedite the troop assembly, they recalled Elton Senna, who had just returned to the main city.
"Where did you get that from?"
Harlan was showing off his new weapon to his friend, a true divine artifact that made Senna incredibly jealous.
With Blazkowicz around, he truly didn't have to worry too much; he even had time to joke.
"Dark Radiance!" Harlan was unwilling to reveal the weapon's origin, proudly brandishing it, causing flashes of faint light.
Upon hearing the weapon's cool name, Senna was once again green with envy. He left the team in a huff, contacting his troops.
The process of contacting the troops was not very difficult.
The servants of Chaos were holed up in the City of Truth, sharpening their claws and waiting for the Argentum's revenge.
When Blazkowicz led his army along the shadow of the train tracks to the City of Truth, the fantastical sight before them astonished the Sentinels.
The City of Truth was still there, but it had changed drastically.
Its sky had leaked; space was 'burnt' with a hole by the power of Chaos, and blasphemous and colorful magic poured down from the circular opening like a rushing waterfall.
The magnificent Sky Pillar, symbolizing human civilization, was painted with the eight-pointed star pattern of blasphemy.
Outside the city, it had become a putrid swamp, with gnarled, tumorous trees twisting and intertwining within, teeming with venomous insects and decay, churning with sickly green poison.
Those sickly green, pot-bellied demons, their bodies rotting and oozing pus, bathed and sang joyfully in the swamp, their bodies riddled with putrid cavities and vibrant microbial colonies.
Brass spikes grew on the smooth stone walls, and hot lava flowed from the city walls, making the sturdy ramparts almost impregnable.
Bloodthirsters stood atop the city walls, stretching their wings and limbering up, preparing for a major battle.
Pink mist permeated the air, and purple thorns pierced through the city gates, constantly dripping venom.
Keeper of Secrets Great Demons twisted their alluring forms, patrolling near the city gates, continuously releasing poisonous mist.
The tallest tower in the City of Truth burned with raging azure magical flames, and gusts of wind carried magical energy.
Lords of Change spread their wings and soared, holding staves and chanting the wisdom of the Lord of Change in the air.
Beneath the demon armies of the Four Gods, there were countless small demons of various twisted and different appearances.
On and below the city walls were also Mortal cultists, corrupted by Chaos and worshipping the Four Gods; they had grown horns and spikes, with eight-pointed stars carved on their heads, their bodies gradually losing their human form.
The City of Truth now held no truth. Only twisted reality and rampant Chaos.
Blazkowicz stood at the forefront of the army, naturally understanding that the priests had continuously cast spells, twisting the reality here into the Warp.
The power of the Four Gods' demon army was far greater than before!
A blue light flashed on the city wall, and the culprit, Isaac, appeared on the city wall using a magical flash, coming into Blazkowicz's line of sight.
Despite his demonization, Blazkowicz recognized him at a glance.
"Welcome, War Lord! Welcome, Sentinels!"
His voice, amplified by magic, echoed throughout the City of Truth: "Do you like what I've prepared for you?"
"The armies of the Gods await you! Ha ha ha!"
Mad laughter shrieked; he had now offered everything to the Lord of Change, completely demonized.
Isaac...
Upon returning to the City of Truth, he had searched through ancient texts and indeed found that secret agreement.
But what did it matter now?
He had already received a response from the Gods; all he needed was devout worship and complete dedication.
The magical flames burned the agreement, and even Isaac's last shred of self.
He had sacrificed the entire City of Truth, using blasphemous Chaos magic to exchange for a destructive army from the Gods.
Now, the City of Truth was a true Chaos demon realm.
To destroy the Sentinels, capture Blazkowicz, and offer him to the Gods, he would ascend to become a Daemon Prince, an eternal being.
Blazkowicz took a deep breath, letting out a roar like thunder: "Where is Elise?"
The boisterous Great Unclean Ones stopped laughing, the Bloodthirsters reined in their ferocity, Slaanesh's Keepers of Secrets halted their steps, and the Lords of Change in the air hastily descended.
Many small demons were so terrified by this roar that their forms disintegrated, and the Chaos cultists were even more scared out of their wits.
The power of a Primarch was terrifying!
The demons felt it; they felt the rage in the roar and knew the horror of having their true names erased.
"She's fine; your brother is with her~"
Isaac, almost completely insane, didn't understand Blazkowicz's power, taunting and mocking him: "Want to save her? She's waiting for you at the center of the ritual~"
"How will you defeat the armies of the Gods and save your beloved mother?"
"You'll find out soon enough." Blazkowicz's face was expressionless, his gaze cold as he stared at the completely corrupted man.
"Heh heh heh~ I'll be waiting~"
With a flash of blue light, Isaac vanished from the city wall, to preside over the grand Chaos ritual; it couldn't proceed without its master.
With the insane Isaac gone, Blazkowicz turned to face the Sentinels; it was time to let them know who the true enemy was.
"Sentinels!"
He took off his warhammer and jumped onto a small rise, ensuring that every Sentinels could see him and hear his voice.
His resonant voice was louder than any magic: "Do you know what we face?"
"Demons!"
The Sentinels responded in unison; they already knew about these supernatural beings called demons.
"No! Demons are just a bunch of filthy servants."
Blazkowicz's roar had immense penetrating power; that deep, rich voice held an extraordinary magic: "It's Gods! The Gods! True Gods!"
The Sentinels remained silent, feeling the War Lord's anger.
"They used trickery to kill your King! My father!"
The news of King Nowick's death had not yet reached the front lines; after a brief moment of shock, the Sentinels erupted in fury!
"Revenge! Revenge! Revenge!"
All the Sentinels let out a deafening roar; their fervent will for revenge even made the demons tremble.
"For thousands of years! We have been the strongest warriors! We are the proudest beings! No one can stop us!"
Blazkowicz pressed the disrupter field activator; the hammer's body flickered with tiny lightning bolts. He raised the hammer high, the glory of a Primarch fully displayed.
He stood there, hammer raised. The Sentinels knelt with a clatter, listening to his inspiring words.
"Now! I will bestow upon you a reward, a reward never before seen!"
Blazkowicz's final inquiry was a roar, his impassioned voice stirring the souls of the warriors: "Raise your blades against the Gods! Challenge the Gods!"
"Do you accept?"
"Do you accept?"
His question echoed through the space, reverberating in the silent wilderness.
"We accept your reward!"
The Sentinels shouted their response in unison, their hearts surging, kneeling on one knee yet proudly holding their heads high.
Who else in the universe would dare to be as proud as them, to accept the reward of challenging the Gods?
"Brothers! Light up your blades!"
Harlan shed tears of excitement, brandishing the Dark Radiance in his hand, raising it high and letting out a hoarse roar: "Let the Gods taste our sharpness! Let evil kneel and beg for mercy before us!"
"Let the Gods taste our sharpness! Let evil kneel and beg for mercy before us!"
The Sentinels trembled with excitement, all lighting up their weapons.
Right now! At this moment!
They stood up again, backs ramrod straight, looking contemptuously at the horde of demons before them.
A group of fearless warriors had raised their blades against the Gods, challenging their authority.
The Four Gods' demon army fell silent.
The humans before them were a group of fearless warriors who didn't care who their enemy was, brandishing their blades against all foes.
"Willpower is the key to battle! Let these rotten things see how tough our will is!"
"We are Argent Nur's blades! We will cut down all enemies!"
"We are Argent Nur's strong wall! We are destined for triumph!"
The will of the Sentinels was unified and firm. Under the Warp-transformed City of Truth, their killing intent and rage burned the souls of the demons.
They gripped their weapons, battle intent boiling, just waiting for the command to crush the demons into dust. "War Lord, following your orders, the Titan Train has arrived!"
The ground began to tremble slightly, and communication came through the comms channel. Above the Sentinels, on the train tracks, the massive Titan Train approached the City of Truth at undiminished speed, heading straight for it!
"Thank you! I offer you my highest respect!"
Blazkowicz placed his hand over his chest, saluting the Forge Masters on the train, who were driving the Titan Train without hesitation.
"For Argent Nur, may you triumph."
Before Blazkowicz set off, he meticulously calculated the timing, arranging for the Titan Train to depart from the Argentum, use orbital acceleration, and crash into the City of Truth's shield.
The rapidly moving Titan Train, like a high-speed bullet, violently struck the City of Truth's defensive shield.
The first layer of the shield was a Void Shield designed to intercept high-speed objects by transferring them to the Warp; the Titan Train's speed was not enough to activate it.
The second layer was a Psionic Shield, constructed by robed and hooded priests on the wall guiding psionic spells, and it was incredibly tough.
Pure kinetic energy, released upon the Psionic Shield, was not enough to pierce it.
Intercepted by the shield, the Titan Train's ten rear carriages all derailed, their immense kinetic energy throwing them forward,
crashing into the Psionic Shield.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Though the crashing carriages created an astonishing spectacle, they only caused ripples on the Psionic Shield, unable to penetrate it.
"Phew~"
The priests on the city wall let out a sigh of relief. While the Titan Train was imposing, the impact force from pure kinetic energy was indeed not very strong.
The ritual inside the city was at a critical juncture and could not tolerate any disturbance. Once the ritual succeeded, the City of Truth would be completely warped.
At that time, an endless army of demons would cross into reality unimpeded, bringing the most brutal destruction to the Sentinels.
The carriages' semi-circular shields slid off, falling into the swamp below the city wall, splashing countless rotten mud.
The Chaos cultists below the city wall screamed and cursed incessantly, mocking the Titan Train's powerlessness with exaggerated, distorted expressions.
Their minds were dominated by Chaos, venting their twisted emotions.
"Pfft~"
The mechanical locks of the carriages that fell into the swamp automatically opened, and black viscous liquid flowed out, quickly spreading over a large area in the swamp.
"Prometheum!" The cultists smelled it, their faces showing terror as they shrieked a warning.
During the era of space colonization, human pioneers collectively referred to all flammable chemical fuels as — Prometheum.
Ghosts in the shadows fired incendiary rounds from sniper rifles, hitting the Prometheum flowing in the swamp.
"Boom~"
Explosive flames shot into the sky, dyeing half the sky crimson.
Great Unclean Ones and Nurgle demons in the swamp writhed in the flames, while venomous insects and ants shrieked in the inferno.
The gnarled old tree branches, intertwined together, were roasted by the fierce Prometheum incendiary, then dried up and burst open, becoming fuel for the sea of fire.
The firelight cast an orange-red glow on the Sentinels' white armor. They watched the burning inferno mercilessly, as demons screamed and wailed within.
Blazkowicz had done his homework well. With knowledge passed down from ancient saints, his understanding of demons deepened.
Fire and swords were the most effective direct means against demons.
Especially Nurgle demons, those embodiments of decay and disease, walking scourges carrying plagues.
From ancient times to the present, high temperatures and flames have been the natural enemies of pathogens. Nurgle, as the master of decay, fears fire—a trait even etched into the very concept of the Chaos God.
The demons and diseases born from its consciousness naturally fear fire the most.
A massive Prometheum fire ignited Nurgle's swamp, burning a path forward for the Sentinels.
The Lord of Change shrieked in the air, nine Tzeentch Greater Demons formed a circle, their eyes glowing with magical light, each chanting a syllable to summon a magical downpour, attempting to extinguish the flames.
They absolutely cannot be allowed to succeed!
Prometheum is not afraid of downpours; ordinary rainwater cannot extinguish chemical fires. But the Lord of Change intended to summon conceptual rain from the Warp.
How to stop them?
The Lord of Change was hidden within the shield's range, protected by multiple layers of shields, rendering ordinary methods completely ineffective.
Blazkowicz's expression remained calm; he already had a countermeasure.
Upon leaving the Argentum, he selected several relic weapons from the Old Armory to deal with the endless psionic methods of sorcerers.
He took a large-caliber pistol from his back belt buckle. Its appearance was unadorned; apart from its massive caliber, it had no special features.
Blazkowicz handed the pistol to Harlan, asking his guard to fire.
It wasn't due to any reservations, simply because his hands were too large to grip the pistol.
Harlan took the pistol with a smile. These relics, sealed in the Old Armory, were rarely used even once by some Sentinels during their long service.
No special aiming was needed, nor did distance matter; one only needed to raise the pistol, point it at the target, and pull the trigger.
"Click~ Click~ Click~"
There was no sound of a bullet firing, only the clear empty click of the trigger.
High above the City of Truth, the nine Lord of Change demons did not scream, but plummeted straight down from the sky.
This was the Automatic Smart Gun—an extremely rare conceptual weapon.
Its user only needed to see the chosen target in their field of vision, raise the gun, and fire to hit the target.
The 'Guaranteed Hit' concept imbued in the gun body meant the bullet would appear directly inside the target's brain, then detonate the warhead.
A 100% hit rate made it almost impossible for targets to escape, and paired with 'Soul-Shattering Bullets' that broke psionic defenses, slaying demons was not difficult.
The spell was interrupted, and the psionic backlash ruptured the Lord of Change's slender throats, exploding above the City of Truth.
Psionic energy is an extremely unstable form of energy, especially in the Warp, where its power becomes immensely strong.
With great power comes great backlash. The empty boom of the failed psionic spell exploded overhead, affecting the priests maintaining the psionic barrier below.
Blood seeped from their mouths and noses, making it difficult to concentrate and guide the flow of psionic energy, and the Psionic Shield immediately failed.
"Sentinels! Charge with me! Tear apart their defenses!"
Just then, Blazkowicz roared, leading the charge of the Sentinels himself.
The swamp was evaporated by the Prometheum flames, and the high temperature raged across the dry land. The Sentinels followed Blazkowicz's footsteps, advancing towards the City of Truth, treading on sparks.
Blazkowicz's steps were heavy. He restrained his body's berserk functions, leading the Sentinels in a collective charge.
Chaos cultists swarmed forward. Blazkowicz wielded his warhammer, not activating the troublesome Disintegration Field, and simply smashed them into bloody paste.
Harlan followed closely behind him, the divine artifact in his hand emitting a dark glow. Its broad blade tore through the cultists' bodies even more smoothly than a dimensional light blade.
Not only that, as enemies died, a surge of vitality was plundered into his body, and Harlan felt no fatigue at all.
After drinking the 'Primordial Soup,' his physical functions were greatly enhanced, and the Champion Swordsman's combat power increased by several levels.
The Sentinels' spearhead charge was too sharp, and the two at the very tip were invincible. Cultists and demons blocking their way were all pierced through.
Their immense battle intent wounded the demons, and their firm will made the Warp tremble!
Their formation was flawless, and their charge was unstoppable. The torrent of heavy infantry swept through, leaving only the trampled bodies of their enemies.
Weapons made of null crystal were too effective against demons.
These demons, blessed by the Chaos Gods and almost immune to ranged attacks, had their bodies shredded by the extended blades.
Blazkowicz's body was stained with foul blood, along with sticky minced flesh mixed with bone fragments.
The warhammer in his hand was driven by savage power, filled with unquenchable hatred. Cultists were smashed into bursting pulp, and demons were annihilated with a single hammer blow.
At this moment, the usual suppression in his eyes receded, as he unleashed accumulated hatred and fury upon the demons.
The runic mark on his chest flickered like breathing. The more demons he killed, the stronger Blazkowicz became.
Keeper of Secrets patrolling the city gate shrieked seductive whispers, twisting their unholy bodies, waving their arms and pincers, and approached with phantom-like steps.
Blazkowicz's left hand shot up from below, seizing its throat, and with a slight squeeze, crushed the Greater Demon's neck and tore off its head.
His right hand swung the warhammer upwards again, sending a Bloodthirster, who had leaped from the city wall attempting to challenge him, flying, crushing its lower jaw and smashing its head.
Even with the Sentinels' cooperation, the Greater Demons could not escape death, being shattered into pieces and returning to the Warp.
Without stopping, Blazkowicz rushed to the city gate, grabbed the thorny vines, and ripped them out by the roots like garbage.
"Drill!" he growled, urging the warriors carrying the equipment.
Four Sentinels soldiers rushed up, carrying the "Drill," which could create a hole in the final energy shield to allow the troops to enter.
The Drill's principle was simple: it used four null crystals on the energy shield to open a dimensional channel.
It was like inserting a tube into a bubble to allow air to flow through.
With the channel opened, Blazkowicz looked at the heavy, steel-forged city gate before him. He lowered his stance, exerted force suddenly, and his body instantly vanished from his original spot.
"!!!"
A dull impact reverberated inside and out. The passage to the interior of the City of Truth was finally opened.
Everyone, including demons and priests, stared blankly at the tall figure standing in the dust of the city gate.
His flesh and blood body was completely unharmed, though his shoulder armor was shattered.
The heavy city gate, weighing thousands of tons, flew up like a piece of paper, hurled dozens of meters, killing dozens of Chaos cultists along the way, plowing a deep trench in the ground, and finally embedding itself in a blocking wall.
"Hiss~"
No one could witness such a terrifying scene without fear. Chaos cultists and priests gasped, feeling a chill down their spines.
What kind of creature were they facing? Was such a being still human?
"Scum!"
Blazkowicz, bathed in blood, stormed into the city, holding a heavy warhammer in one hand, the air he exhaled terrifyingly hot.
His eyes swept over the enemies within the city, his roar filled with the resolve to slay all foes: "FACE ME IF YOU DARE!"