Leaving the noisy, pungent tavern, Karen led Horus into a dim, sewage-filled abandoned alleyway.
They intended to use this path to return to their original shelter.
But before they could take two steps, the system panel before Karen’s eyes suddenly flashed a blinding red light.
He turned his head and, by the flickering dim light, saw the graffiti on the wall that had been corroded by time.
It was an extremely ancient and secret symbol.
Crossed twin swords and broken wings.
[Ding!
Hidden Quest Triggered!] [Find the Sunken First Legion: Contact a Fallen Angel!] Karen sucked in a breath of cold air, his feet rooted firmly to the spot.
“What is it, my friend?” Horus, draped in a concealment cloak, stopped and asked in a deep voice.
“We’ve run into your brother’s unlucky son.” Lowering his voice, Karen quickly and concisely poured out the tragic civil war of the First Legion Dark Angels on their home world Caliban, and the mess of how the Fallen Angels wandered the stars, hunted like mad dogs by their own brothers for ten thousand years.
After hearing this history of blood and tears, the Wolf Shepherd God fell silent.
He did not speak, only turned to look deep into the dark corridor.
That brother who had once made him the most wary and the most proud, Lion El’Jonson, and his proud First Legion, had actually ended up in fratricide and ten thousand years of exile.
A very soft sigh dissipated into the foul-smelling air.
“Let’s go.
Since there are traces of my brother’s scion, let’s go have a look.” Horus’s voice carried a hint of heavy weight that was hard to hide.
Following the system’s faint positioning guidance, the two tightened their concealment cloaks and felt their way into the deepest, most lawless ruins of the Hive City’s black market.
The surrounding smell of engine oil and the sour stench of mutated fungi were gradually covered by a strong, pungent smell of blood.
Karen knew they had arrived at the core territory of the local bloodthirstiest gang—the “Black Hand Gang.” Ahead was an abandoned heavy machining workshop.
At this moment, it was bustling with activity.
The harsh sound of plasma charging and Bolters being chambered blended together, as lines of fire wove into an airtight barrage of death.
Dozens of fully armed gang thugs were pinning down a burly figure in tattered hooded robes behind the cover of a scrapped forge.
The leading gang boss frantically brandished a Power Saw, his arrogant laughter echoing through the workshop: “I don’t care what kind of mutant monster you are!
Today, I’m peeling off that iron shell of yours and selling it to the black market big shots for a fortune!” Hiding in the shadows, Karen poked half his head out.
After seeing the situation clearly, his eyes nearly popped out.
“An Astartes?!” he whispered.
“A grand and noble Space Marine, being pinned down by a group of mortal thugs?” “Wait, does he have no ammunition for his weapons?” The massive figure behind the cover was clearly heavily wounded and lacked even the ammunition to return fire, forced to rely on Ceramite Armor to withstand the stray bullets.
Seeing this, the gang lackeys became even more arrogant, whistling wildly and hurling all sorts of vulgar insults like water.
Just then, Horus’s eyes narrowed slightly.
The Primarch’s superhuman vision instantly penetrated the tattered robes, locking onto the iconic silhouette of the black Ceramite Power Armor beneath.
“That is an Astartes of the First Legion, the Dark Angels.” “It should be the Fallen Angel we’re looking for.” The Wolf Shepherd God turned his head toward Karen, his eyes questioning.
Save him, or not?
Karen didn’t waste any words and simply nodded decisively: “Help him.” Duh, if he didn’t help, how would he get the rewards from the system?
Before the words even finished.
The giant who had been pretending to be an “Ogryn” a second ago charged straight out of the shadows.
Like an ancient Tyrannosaurus, he stepped directly into the searing line of fire!
Fast.
Too fast.
Horus’s speed directly broke the physical limits of a mortal’s retinal capture.
The eight gang thugs guarding the flank didn’t even see what happened before they felt like an out-of-control maglev train had smashed into their faces.
An overwhelming force of impact erupted instantly!
With several teeth-grinding thuds, the eight men were sent flying along with their guns, slamming hard against the metal walls and turning into several splatters of mangled meat graffiti on the spot.
The gang’s laughter died in their throats instantly, like a rooster being strangled by the neck.
Everyone stared with wide, terrified eyes at this 3.5-meter-tall muscle monster that had appeared out of thin air.
Even the Astartes hiding behind the cover looked up in astonishment.
“Fi…
Fire!
Kill him!” The gang boss finally reacted, his voice cracking with fear.
The dense hail of bullets immediately turned their muzzles, pouring frantically toward Horus.
But this was a Primarch.
Even a Warmaster not wearing power armor was not something these lackeys could hope to contend with.
Horus didn’t even bother to dodge; he reached back and grabbed a scrapped lathe weighing several tons nearby.
Amidst a harsh sound of snapping metal, he swung that several-ton iron hunk with one hand and hurled it like a toy toward the heavy fire positions!
Boom—!
A deafening roar tore through the workshop.
Flesh and blood flew everywhere, as limbs and metal fragments wove together into a cruel rain of blood in the air.
The entire massacre took less than ten seconds.
Pure dimensional suppression.
The Black Hand Gang elites, who had been so overbearing a moment ago, were now all red and white decorations stuck to rubble and scrap iron.
A deathly silence enveloped the workshop.
The cloaked warrior behind the cover stood up abruptly, gripping his dull Combat Knife with a reverse hold.
As a battle-hardened Astartes, the moment he witnessed the massacre just now, he felt an indescribable fear.
It was an absolute hierarchy suppression belonging to a demigod Primarch, buried deep within the core of his genetic code!
Even as strong as a Space Marine, his hand holding the blade was now uncontrollably trembling slightly.
Horus casually shook the blood off the back of his hand, his gaze as calm as water, looking at the blade-wielding Astartes.
Karen also stepped out from the shadows at the right time.
A gust from a high-altitude exhaust fan whistled past.
It blew the hood off the Astartes’ head.
Revealing a suit of mottled, black power armor covered in horrific battle scars.
He stared fixedly at the giant before him who was half a body taller than himself and disguised as an “Ogryn.” The breathing under the mask became extremely rapid and erratic.
His voice trembled violently due to extreme disbelief: “Who on earth are you…
The aura on you, and your fighting style…
are no different from a Primarch!” Karen nodded toward Horus.
Without any hesitation, the two of them removed their hoods simultaneously.
This Astartes did not recognize the mortal, but he did recognize the ‘Ogryn’ beside the mortal.
When that sharp-featured, restrainedly radiant face belonging to the Arch-Traitor was fully exposed in the dim light…
The Fallen Angel’s pupils suddenly contracted to the limit, and his brain almost instantly stalled.
After a brief yet long, deathly silence.
He lunged like a maddened beast!
Even knowing he was no match, he still swung his knife without hesitation, attempting to stab directly through Horus’s throat!
“Traitor!
Die!” Pa.
A dull thud.
Horus only extended one hand, nonchalantly catching the Astartes’ wrist and locking that lethal edge firmly in mid-air.
“Do not be agitated, warrior.” The Wolf Shepherd God looked down at him, his voice deep and resonant.