Chapter 83: He is the Devil!
On Terra.
From within the rift, Khornate daemons emerged in continuous waves, seemingly without end.
Francis stood as if upon an assembly line, numbly splashing alchemical concoctions with one hand while controlling Khornate daemons to devour other Khornate daemons with the other.
Even with the Emperor present, the continuous surge of Khornate daemons proved overwhelming. It was as if they were concealing some greater stratagem.
Francis wondered if there wasn't a more efficient method to eliminate this horde.
Thud!
Something substantial struck him from behind.
"Oh dear, I'm so sorry, Senior."
A mechanical voice, crackling slightly with electrical static, emanated from behind him. He turned to see Hierophant Hiei Roma, the Dominus of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
However, that damned tone, and what was with calling him "Senior"?
At this thought, a chill ran down Francis's spine. He had to redirect her enthusiasm somehow.
"Hmm? Why did you come down? It's quite dangerous here."
Hearing Francis's concern, Hierophant Hiei Roma's head vented countless jets of steam, and she quickly replied:
"Primarch, don't let my appearance deceive you. I am actually quite formidable in combat!"
"Oh?"
Hearing this, Francis grew somewhat interested. It was his first time encountering a female Adeptus Mechanicus tech-priest, and he was curious about what impressive augmentations she possessed.
Seeing the expectant look from her idol, Hierophant Hiei Roma recognized this as her opportunity to demonstrate her capabilities.
She extended countless mechanical appendages, anchoring herself in place, then raised her robes to reveal that her body was almost entirely mechanically augmented, even the blossom content of her heart from earlier was pure metal.
Seeing this, Francis couldn't help but sigh. "Alas~ It's all artificial. The Adeptus Mechanicus truly doesn't understand romance."
Accompanied by the whirring of gears, Hierophant Hiei Roma's chest plating opened, revealing several large cannon barrels. She turned to Francis.
"Primarch, I shall now demonstrate."
With that declaration, the cannons unleashed several streams of eerie blue laser fire. The powerful recoil drove her backward over ten meters.
Whoosh!
The lasers effortlessly carved through Hellbrute armor, then continued forward. The azure beams bisected countless Khornate daemons, and as the lasers swept from side to side, they easily carved several fan-shaped clearings with radii of several miles.
Countless Khornate daemons were reduced to paste before they could react.
She ceased firing only after several tens of seconds, then regarded Francis with an expectant expression.
Francis, meanwhile, gazed at her chest plating, now glowing red from thermal buildup, and fell into thought.
The Adeptus Mechanicus truly concealed many treasures. He would need to find an opportunity to acquire more of their technology.
However, this scene appeared entirely different to the Soul Drinkers observing. Their Primarch was regarding her with serious contemplation, while she gazed back at him with visible excitement.
Though she was almost entirely mechanical, could it be that the Primarch had preferences in that direction?
"What do you think? Is the Primarch smitten?"
"Impossible. How could the Primarch fall in love? He's clearly evaluating her as a research subject."
"No, I think there's something to it. Consider, the Primarch has only been this serious a handful of times, and each instance involved something significant."
"Oh no! The Primarch has fallen in love!"
Several Soul Drinkers whispered among themselves. Sarpedon had initially intended to stop them, but hearing it was gossip about the Primarch, he immediately joined the discussion.
Finally, Francis experienced an epiphany. He had been incredibly excited moments before, then instantly disappointed.
The realization struck him all at once.
If the Khornate daemons' emotions were also extracted, they would...
At this thought, the smile upon Francis's lips became increasingly difficult to suppress, eventually manifesting as a wicked laugh.
"Hehehe~ You performed excellently! Exceptionally well!"
"I've conceived of a perfect method!"
Witnessing Francis's smile and hearing his praise, Hierophant Hiei Roma instantly became as delighted as a child.
Regarding the Khornate daemons still surging forward, Francis retrieved Angron's blood and consumed it entirely.
Gulp, gulp, gulp~
He then ascended into the air. Everyone observed him with puzzled expressions, exchanging glances, all wondering what Francis intended.
At this moment, through Francis's enhanced perception, he could perceive the pain, numbness, and fury of the Astartes, and simultaneously the slaughter-lust, pleasure, and rage of the Khornate daemons.
As Francis absorbed with all his might, all negative emotions within hundreds of miles were drawn into his being.
BOOM!
The previously wounded Astartes instantly became vigorous, all roaring:
"For the Emperor!"
"For the Emperor! Entomb me in a Dreadnought!"
Upon the battlefield, warriors who had previously feared Dreadnought internment now eagerly volunteered, completely transforming into fearless combatants.
The previously stalemated battle shifted once more.
Countless Slaaneshi daemons continued their slaughter, yet they began shrieking in agony.
"Why! Why do I feel nothing at all!"
"My pleasure! How can this be? Where has my pleasure gone?"
"No! Give me back my pleasure!"
They twisted their bodies frantically, tormenting themselves and other daemons even as they killed, yet they could feel no pleasure whatsoever. Even their depraved celebrations brought no satisfaction.
Despair! Utter despair!
When they instantly located Francis in the direction of the stolen pleasure, the Slaaneshi daemons shrieked madly: "He is the devil! The devil who steals pleasure!"
"Everyone flee! There's a devil here who devours pleasure!"
The Slaaneshi daemons, devoid of sensation, fled continuously. Lacking pleasure was more unbearable than death itself. Even the battle-mad Khornate daemons screamed in greater despair.
"He won't even grant me the joy of death! He is the devil!"
Just as the Khornate daemons prepared to roar in fury, they discovered they could not muster anger.
Even the emotion of bloodlust had vanished.
Numbness —endless numbness —assailed their essence. Even when they shouted "Skulls for the Skull Throne!" there was not a single ripple in their hearts.
They had lost their emotions, and they howled in anguish. "Return my bloodlust!"
"Kill! Kill! Kill what?! Why do I feel nothing at all!"
"No!"
The brave and bloodthirsty Khornate daemons now existed in utter panic. Their most precious possession had been stolen, and all will to fight had vanished.
As one side weakened and the other strengthened, the Imperium's Astartes began cleansing the enemy. They didn't even require the Thousand Sons Legion's intervention; the Khornate daemons obediently sealed the rift themselves.
Several Primarchs gazed up at the figure suspended in the sky, all displaying shock. This was simply a devastating weapon for mass combat.
At this moment, Francis, having absorbed a massive quantity of emotions, felt only darkness before his eyes.
Endless slaughter and lust swirled through his consciousness, his mind constantly oscillating between incompatible extremes. He lost track of how much time passed.
"What the hell? Where did I end up?"
Francis surveyed his surroundings and soon perceived a Brass Throne in the distance, and a graceful presence wreathed in a diffused pink aura.
"What?!"
Francis's eyes widened instantly. He had only absorbed a wave of emotions. How had he ended up before these two entities?
He attempted to retreat, but there was no path behind him, and the entities simply observed him without speaking.
"Uh, apologies! I'm not defecting yet!"
"How about I contact you when I can no longer manage in the Imperium?"
Just as Francis believed this was merely a brief encounter, a crimson hand extended from the Brass Throne, reaching directly for him.
Francis attempted resistance, but found himself truly immobilized like a statue. He witnessed this scene with horror and roared:
"No! A forced melon isn't sweet!"
Just as the massive hand was about to make contact, an enormous tentacle coiled around it, and the two entities struggled against each other. Terrifying psychic fluctuations caused the entire space to ripple continuously.
Then Francis heard an intense, deep voice.
"Mine."
Followed by an incredibly melodious voice, as if it had caressed Francis: "No I'll trade you for the Primarch."
"Acceptable."
Francis: "???"
"Wait, aren't you going to ask how I, the person involved, feel about this?"
"I refuse!"
Francis kept shouting protests, but the entities seemed to enjoy watching him struggle. The tentacle trembled continuously as it reached for him.
Finally, with no alternative, Francis shouted: "Emperor, save me!"
Just as the tentacle was about to make contact, a green radiance descended from above, instantly repelling the purple appendage.
"WAAAAAAGH~"
"WAAAAAAGH He's ours"
Two massive Ork heads, uncharacteristically not fighting each other, descended upon Francis's position. They stared intently at the Brass Throne and the owner of that tentacle.
Witnessing this scene, Francis was incredibly moved.
What Emperor? This was truly...
Actually, the Orks were more reliable!
[End of Chapter]