44: Chapter 44 The Chaos Egg (Two Chapters Combined)

Kross immediately picked up the poleaxe beside him.

The axe head was engraved with a striking eight-pointed star emblem, and in the very center of the star was a massive, blood-colored skeletal goat head.

Shouldering the blood-axe, Kross strode out toward the battlefield outside, followed by the berserkers who were sworn to follow him to the death.

By the time Kross arrived at the battlefield, the overall situation was already grim.

When Saint Sabbat led her army across the plain, she had originally worried they might set an ambush, but Saint Sabbat had been overthinking it.

Followers of Khorne simply disdained doing things like ambushes or sneak attacks.

In their eyes, such things violated a warrior's code of combat.

Only Khorne's arch-rival, Tzeentch, would resort to such tactics.

Once Saint Sabbat's army entered the attack range of the Khorne followers, those cultists had almost no formation, no unified management, and not even a single command.

At the first sight of Saint Sabbat and her army, they howled and charged toward her position.

The Blood Hand Tribe's forces stood at roughly thirty thousand men after absorbing the second-largest tribe, the Blood Skulls.

Their strength had received a massive boost.

Watching the scene before him, Xia Xingchen felt that the way these low-level cultists fought was somewhat similar to Orks, except Orks fought for the sake of fighting itself, while these people fought for blood and slaughter.

He watched as the Khorne followers surged toward the army's lines like a blood-red tide, wave after turbulent wave.

Saint Sabbat made a decisive move; a large number of heavy cavalry quickly appeared at the very front of the army, while the front-row infantry raised their shields and extended their spears, forming an impregnable defensive line.

At that moment, the Khorne followers were like drug addicts on a high, completely disregarding the wall of steel ahead as they lunged forward like madmen.

The result was inevitable: the first wave of people was instantly skewered like meat on a stick by the spears.

But the Khorne followers behind them showed no intention of stopping their charge; instead, they used the shields made of the corpses of those before them to keep pushing against the line.

Truly followers of Khorne—they were absolutely insane.

Unfortunately, mortal flesh that hasn't been enhanced simply cannot withstand hardened iron.

Under Saint Sabbat's command, the soldiers continuously cut back and forth, slaughtering a vast number of Khorne cultists.

At the same time, the cavalry on both flanks began to mobilize rapidly; these soldiers, clad in full heavy plate armor, were no different from tanks on a medieval battlefield.

Against these mortal soldiers who wore only thin armor and charged solely on their faith in Khorne, it was almost a one-sided massacre.

Under the repeated charges of the cavalry, the Blood Hand Tribe's formation was shattered to pieces.

Only then did Xia Xingchen realize that this group actually lacked any unified command.

These Khorne followers were simply hacking at anyone they saw, without any objective or plan.

By now, the Khorne berserkers' formation was completely disorganized, and the Blood Hand Tribe could no longer form an effective front line.

On the battlefield, the infantry ranks led by Saint Sabbat continued to push forward, while the cavalry repeatedly harassed and charged the rear of the Khorne followers, turning the entire Blood Hand Tribe army into a scattered mess.

Just when Xia Xingchen thought victory was imminent,

A roar that shook the heavens echoed across the field.

An impossibly tall man, riding a massive, blood-red steed, lunged violently into the cavalry ranks.

The long-handled blood-axe in his hand swung continuously, reaping a cavalryman's life with every stroke.

The hundred Khorne berserkers following behind him were not like the previous army—they weren't devoid of reason or left with only the fervor of charging and slaughter.

They were tactical and organized, arranged in a neat formation behind Kross as they launched a frontal assault against the knights of the God-Emperor Faction.

The moment iron and blood collided, something unexpected happened.

The heavy cavalry not only failed to crush these thinly armored Khorne knights but were instead broken through from the front.

Kross was like a mortal version of an Astartes; alone, he could match a thousand men.

Many soldiers were knocked off their horses by Kross before they could even process what was happening in the collision of the charge.

Kross used no tactics on the battlefield; relying solely on absolute martial prowess and raw courage, he crushed the cavalry flanking from the left.

Seeing this, the berserker army—which had been on the verge of a morale collapse—howled once more. As if injected with adrenaline, they screamed and charged Saint Sabbat's lines again.

This wave of impact put considerable pressure on Saint Sabbat's front-line troops, and several gaps in the line were nearly breached.

Fortunately, under Saint Sabbat's command and the loud chanting of holy hymns, the warriors of the God-Emperor Faction became like unbreakable steel once more. They blocked the berserkers' repeated strikes, drove blades into their skulls, brought blood and death to these heretics, and brought victory to the God-Emperor.

Just as Kross was preparing to lead his remaining fanatical cavalry to crush the right-wing cavalry and secure a stable rear for himself,

A clear, resounding voice rang out.

“Kross, do you dare to face me in battle?”

Saint Sabbat had made her move.

Saint Sabbat led a group of cavalry and charged toward Kross.

Like a Joan of Arc, Saint Sabbat acted as a shot of adrenaline for the entire battlefield; the cavalry she led was invincible.

The Khorne followers simply could not block Saint Sabbat's path.

When they stood before Saint Sabbat, they felt as if that blinding holy light were a blade, piercing through their flesh and souls.

All the Khorne followers feared Saint Sabbat from the bottom of their hearts.

They didn't understand why this seemingly ordinary woman possessed a terrifying power capable of suppressing them.

Watching the scene, Kross suddenly felt a strange surge of agitation within him, as if a god were whispering in his ear:

As long as he dealt with the young girl before him, he would receive ultimate blessings.

Kross immediately abandoned all other targets.

Recklessly, he took his remaining fanatical cavalry and launched a charge toward Saint Sabbat.

Saint Sabbat also launched an attack toward Kross at the same time.

The moment they made contact, the great axe and the power sword collided with a boom.

This was an absolute crushing of a medieval world by an interstellar civilization; the power sword, like a divine weapon, sliced through the great axe on the spot as if it were tofu.

Before Kross could react, Saint Sabbat had already leaped into the air and immediately reversed her blade, striking at Kross's back.

Kross scrambled to turn around, preparing to use the remaining axe handle to block the blow.

But Saint Sabbat had already swung her sword down with startling force, severing Kross's right arm.

Saint Sabbat stood in the center of the battlefield, while Kross's right hand had already fallen to the ground.

Kross felt his right arm in disbelief, finding only an empty stump remaining.

Instantly, Kross let out a howl of agony.

But soon, Kross forced himself to endure the intense pain.

At this moment, Kross knew very well that in his current state, facing Saint Sabbat meant certain defeat.

So Kross immediately turned his horse around and charged straight toward the altar.

As long as he could complete the blood sacrifice, he would receive the powerful strength bestowed by the Blood God, and then he could kill this monster of a girl.

Kross was completely unaware that his act of fleeing the field had already caused extreme dissatisfaction from the god behind him.

Khorne never cares if an opponent's strength is equal; even if the enemy is hundreds or thousands of times stronger than you, you must charge without hesitation.

Otherwise, you will only invite Khorne's loathing and displeasure.

However, when Kross returned to the altar, he found that due to the successive losses in battle, considerable panic had already spread through the camp. Many warriors who originally belonged to the Blood Hand Tribe had chosen to flee.

Looking at the thousands of slaves on the altar who had not yet been sacrificed, Kross knew he was at a dead end. He could only kneel on the altar in a desperate gamble, begging the Burning God to grant him power.

Although Khorne disliked Kross's act of fleeing, it needed Kross to resist the God-Emperor's expansion in this world more than it cared about that.

Suddenly, a vast amount of blood mist began to permeate the altar. This mist seemed to possess intelligence, frantically surging into Kross's body.

Kross's body immediately began to swell wildly, and something seemed to be pulsing beneath his skin.

Blood-colored vortices seemed to form in Kross's eyes, as if he could stare directly into the depths of the Warp.

According to the normal plot, Kross should have gained immense power and then gone out to fight a final battle with Saint Sabbat.

But the Blood God's gift, after all, requires one's own body as the capital to sustain it.

The army led by Saint Sabbat and Xia Xingchen broke directly through the outer perimeter of the Blood Hand Tribe, killing and capturing all the fanatics.

With unstoppable momentum, they pushed toward the altar.

When Saint Sabbat and Xia Xingchen arrived at the perimeter of the largest tent together, a strange sight appeared before them.

Above the tent, a massive vortex rose out of thin air, as if endless fel energy were pouring out from within.

Seeing this, Xia Xingchen frowned instantly.

No way, are the Chaos Gods of the Warp really this bored?

They have nothing better to do than stare at this dump?

As the vortex in the sky gradually dissipated,

Xia Xingchen could clearly sense that there was an extremely terrifying existence inside the tent.

Because a normal tent would never continuously emit blood-colored energy like this.

Saint Sabbat and Xia Xingchen exchanged a glance. Saint Sabbat took a deep breath and was about to step inside when she was stopped by Xia Xingchen.

“Be careful. I'll go in first. The situation inside is likely not something these medieval infantry and knights can handle.”

Xia Xingchen, followed by his guard detail, cautiously advanced forward.

They held their Lucius-pattern lasguns tightly, muzzles always aimed forward.

After entering the tent, Xia Xingchen and the guards saw an incredibly horrific scene.

The large tent was filled with severed limbs and broken bodies, as if it had just undergone a gruesome massacre.

Looking at the scene before him, Xia Xingchen couldn't help but complain in his mind: 'So a Chaos God just went on a slaughter spree in here.'

Xia Xingchen looked around, but the thick blood mist made it impossible for him to see the surroundings clearly for a moment.

Just as Xia Xingchen was about to switch his power armor to thermal scanning mode, the surrounding blood mist began to dissipate rapidly in an extremely eerie manner.

No, it wasn't dissipating; it was converging toward a single point.

Xia Xingchen and the guards quickly looked up toward the center of the altar.

A massive figure appeared at the very top of the altar. Was that a person?

No, it wasn't human at all.

It was impossible for Kross to have such a massive physique; this had clearly exceeded the boundaries of a normal human.

Then again, Kross wasn't exactly normal to begin with.

Wait, what was that thing moving?

Why did it feel like a tentacle?

The moment the blood mist completely cleared, a tentacle as thick as a water barrel lashed out directly toward Xia Xingchen's face.

“Fuck!”

Xia Xingchen cursed, quickly rolling to dodge, narrowly avoiding the strike.

But Xia Xingchen wasn't the tentacle's only target; a guard was swatted away on the spot before he could react.

When Xia Xingchen looked up again, he saw that the being at the top of the altar was no longer human; it was a monster—a mix of fangs, claws, and tentacles, with twisted limbs and a bloated body.

Its entire body looked more like it had been forced together, with no rhyme or symmetry, filled with a sense of chaotic distortion.

A Chaos Spawn?

No way, did the Chaos God just abandon Kross like that?

Thinking this, Xia Xingchen pulled out his Plasma Pistol and fired repeatedly at the tentacles.

This was no longer a situation ordinary medieval knights and soldiers could handle; even if they came, they would be nothing more than snacks.

Xia Xingchen aimed at a tentacle that had already wrapped around a guard and was about to drag him away.

Xia Xingchen quickly pulled the trigger, and three plasma bolts struck the tentacle with precision.

But the Chaos Spawn's tentacle was like a twisted creation that knew no pain; no matter how many attacks hit it, there was no sign of it stopping as it stuffed the guard directly into its gaping maw.

Damn it, with such high defense and resilience, hitting it with weapons is like punching cotton.

Xia Xingchen complained wildly in his mind while continuing to fire.

“Use grenades! I don't care what kind, throw everything at it!”

The guards reacted instantly, quickly pulling grenades from their pouches, pulling the pins, and hurling them directly at the Chaos Spawn's position.

melta bombs and high-explosive grenades detonated one after another on the Chaos Spawn's body. The massive shockwaves blew more than half of the altar to pieces.

Xia Xingchen and the guards stared warily at the ruins, and the massive commotion from within also caused Saint Sabbat outside the tent to worry; eventually, she decided to go in.

Saint Sabbat ordered all the troops behind her to fall back.

Saint Sabbat knew very well that mortals could never look upon a creation of Chaos; they would not need to participate in the coming battle.