The harsh light penetrated the darkness.
This is a team of Soul Drinkers, moving slowly and unhurriedly, carrying out a mission with a certain confidence.
The group was scattered throughout the cabin, overturning debris and examining the walls for marks, their internal voices clicking as they talked among themselves.
They even communicated frequently in sign language.
This piqued the interest of the Hunter observing them, as he was also adept at mastering the Astartes' fighting gestures.
He watched with curiosity how easily his enemies betrayed him.
The hunter watched silently as the shining spear of light cut away from this direction and that direction, revealing the wreckage deep in the ruins.
They are looking for something.
Obviously, the goal is consistent with myself.
They had suspicions about the ship.
This is also very natural. Anyone would be suspicious of a hulk that suddenly appears, but this is not even a riddle to the hunter.
A trap deployed by a loser who wants to control his destiny.
Not worth mentioning.
Thinking of this, the hunter smiled and whispered something to the machine soul on the armor. This sentence informed the soul of the armor that the hunting was really about to begin.
"Prey vision."
The next second, his field of vision was filled with a deep blue like the sea, rendered by the thermal light emitted by the moving life forms.
The hunter watched the team advance, split into two teams of five people each.
This is going to be interesting.
A low laugh came from under the bat-winged bone-faced helmet. He hadn't hunted like this for a long time.
perhaps--
Ten thousand years.
He chose to follow a group of men and followed them through the corridors, knowing that the piercing roar of his power armor and the noise of its servo joints would not be heard by the dim-witted rookies.
Of course, the word "rookie" may be used incorrectly, as it lacks respect for the enemy.
They were Astartes after all, and they were Hunters - the weaker kind.
The former Night Lord's pale lips curved into another sly smile.
Oh, how unfortunate.
Sevatar monitored the readings on his retinal monitor, resisting the urge to click on the runes to confirm that the hunt would be so easy that he wouldn't even need to use his psychic gifts.
After all purity consists in the commandment of certain things until they become necessary.
His visor glowed with the location runes of Thror and Soshyan, and the Hunter sprang into action after noting their position on the ship, it had been a long time since he'd spilled the blood of an Astartes in the dark.
He may be a powerful warrior, but he is also a terrifying killer.
Sevatar preferred to hunt in the dark.
A true hunter does not avoid being seen by his prey, and only revealing one's stalking when the prey is killed is simply the act of a coward and a ghoul.
Where is the excitement in this?
A Night Lord is raised by other, truer laws.
Sevatar walked through the shadows like a ghost, judging the strength of the opponent's auditory receptors.
What on earth could they hear...
He followed them down a corridor, then rubbed his gauntleted knuckles lightly against the metal wall.
The Soul Drinkers immediately turned around and shone their helmet beams into his face.
It seemed to work, and the hunters had to admire them.
For half a heartbeat of the world, the light would illuminate his vision and blind him.
Sevatar ignored the beam entirely, disappearing into the shadows of a side corridor as they opened fire.
Five minutes later he came to the door again.
This time he set a gorgeous trap and waited for the opportunity.
He stuck his halberd in their path.
It was like an invitation to go straight into the cabin to get it. It was obviously a trap.
But how could they resist?
The Soul Drinkers were all alert. They raised their bolters and scanned around, mentally on alert.
They recognized the halberd, the weapon that had killed many of their brothers before. Although they did not understand why this thing appeared here, they couldn't help but go forward to check it.
Then Sevatar left the ceiling.
He landed with a thud on the deck behind the Soul Drinker, his armored hands swooping forward to grab the last member of the group.
The other instinctively turned and fired.
"Don't--"
After firing three bolts into his brother's body, Sevatar couldn't help but laugh at the guy's stupidity.
The Night Lord clutched the quivering human shield that was fighting him, watching the thermometer on his retinas flicker as the blood of the dying man splattered his armor.
The quivering Soul Drinker was nothing more than a sack of frozen flesh in his hands as the bolt detonated, nearly killing the man and tearing off the power armor.
"Well played."
Sevatar spoke into the crackling audio in his helmet, throwing the bleeding shield aside and jumping to the other, fingers spread like giant claws.
The battle was brutal and short.
The Night Lord was as fast as a gust of wind. He grabbed the bolter directly from the opponent's hand, smashed the muzzle of the gun directly into the man's eyepiece, and then pulled the trigger.
The helmet was smashed to pieces after the gunshot, and Sevatar let go of his hand and let the man fall.
Two gunshots rang out, and the bullets streaked through his cloak, leaving two big holes.
Then he turned around and pulled out his halberd, waving his arms amidst the roar and cutting off the two soul drinkers.
Blood tumbled out.
The fifth man tried to slash with his sword, but Sevatar struck the man in the chest with the end of his halberd, knocking him to the ground. Then he stepped up and crushed the man's arm.
"This looks so brittle."
Sevatar bent down and looked behind the eyepiece, hatred burning in the warrior's eyes.
The man was yelling something, probably scolding him.
Sevatar wasted a few seconds just to appreciate the words, the desperate emotion, the pleasure of the prey's struggle.
He then smashed the mask with his fist and cracked the helmet with one blow.
One punch, two punches, three punches——
Until the opponent stops moving.
"Sevita."
At this point, the voice channel hissed.
"Say it, Thor."
"We encountered the Horror."
"It's not a surprise, it's not like you couldn't guess it."
"Are you done over there?"
"Brother, look at this hulk. It's as empty as Soshyan's head. It doesn't have anything of value. I didn't even see a servitor. How can I find that thing? Who knows that subspace hides it? Where is it?"
Sevatar cut off the voice server as he walked through the black corridor. He could no longer stand Thor's chatter.
Now he must be alone and finish the work seriously.
This was not done voluntarily, and everything he had done so far was not done voluntarily, but there was nothing that could be done about it. After all, the root of all this was——
The sin of the father.
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