"My lord, I'm afraid it's not yet certain that they are the Astral Knights. Their motives are still unknown. Going from such a distant place to an unfamiliar location to attack a fleet that is completely unaware of the situation is beyond the reach of normal people."
Garon Surlet has always been Huron's right-hand man and think tank. As soon as he opened his mouth, many champions started clamoring, thinking that Sarpedon was being alarmist and trying to get a chance to perform.
Sarpedon just smiled slightly and responded calmly:
"We will know the truth as soon as we see it."
Garon Sulet's hazy eyes darkened slightly, and then nodded.
"Okay, it seems you have made some preparations."
Huron took Sarpedon and Garon Sulet to a small temple of the Ghost of Destruction, and sent the others away, leaving them to their duties, regardless of their surprise and curiosity.
The Ghost of Destruction was a great and powerful flagship, and they spent some time traveling through the proving grounds and ritual chambers, where row after row of Red Corsairs were honing their combat skills - all Huron's Private soldiers are different from those stragglers.
Here, in every space, chaos is everywhere.
Scriptures were carved on the bulkheads and supporting ribs, and wet human skins and bones lay on the lampstands and supports. The entire ship was soaked in evil and fanaticism.
The ship was once known as the Brave Warrior, a ship dedicated to the Emperor, but now it is almost a temple, with all the Emperor's statues smashed and driven out of the corridors.
Soon, the three of them arrived at a narrow and high room.
It's like a canyon of steel, home to inferior psykers called Immolators, placed in glass bubbles within the walls, each of which is oxygenated by a massive life support system. and nutrients.
The wretches, huddled naked and twitching from the force contained in their swollen, torn skulls, looked as if they were in a dream.
Because their eyes and mouths are closed, some people appear to have no facial features at all, and their bodies no longer need to breathe, eat, or experience the outside world.
As Huron checked the vital signs on the screen in the center of the room, the surrounding apothecaries in charge bowed deeply to their master, while other servants fell to their knees in silence before him.
"Get up, is everything ready?"
Huron directed the question to Sarpedon.
The former Soul Drinker Librarian looked at the data on the screen, turned to his master and nodded.
"It's time to start."
Sarpedon then ordered his subordinates to activate the programs connected to the sacrificial blisters, and Huron, without further instructions, left Sarpedon to carry out his task.
Soon, the sacrifices within the wall began to move, as if the dream had turned into a nightmare.
Sarpedon appeared on the highest altar, with four arms raised high - this was the second mutation that occurred to him two years ago.
"I have placed an eye in Prayed's fleet, and we will see what it sees."
As he exerted his power, a window of destiny opened to Huron.
For a moment, he left the Doomwraith and arrived on the Deathblade, but he could feel the panic spreading throughout the ship.
He saw fire, men and women burning, thousands sacrificed on the altar of hope called Victory, they became ghosts in his mind, their penitent souls greedily devoured by twisted souls, It then disperses into atoms until only remnants remain.
Death awaited the ship.
The certainty of this fact calmed him gradually.
soon,
The vista changed, and Huron's thoughts passed beyond the Deathblade and into the churning abyss.
When a new scene appeared, a huge ship appeared faintly in the fog.
The ship was so huge, like an angry city, with thousands of cannon muzzles opening like mouths on its sides, glowing large-caliber laser arrays, and deadly tongues spitting out The flight deck of the boat.
And the golden eagle emblem on its bow was so dazzling that it even hurt Huron's soul.
Then he saw the name of the ship, and its abominable symbol.
Eternal Loyalty!
It is terrifying, a monstrosity of pale gray and gold, yet its majestic beauty outweighs any aesthetic flaws.
Huron traveled further across the ocean and through false realities.
As his mind expanded, he could taste the waves of the ether, its endless cries and the coldness of the abyss even calling him to go deeper.
His sanity was stung, and panic surged toward him like a flood.
Huron knew that the warp wanted to tear his mind into pieces,
It showed him visions of destruction, with Badab's hive burning and his Chapter being flung into the Warp.
In another scene, he kneels before a throne, where a gray figure stands proudly.
Having dealt with the power of Chaos for a long time, he knows what these illusions are about. This is not only a hint of madness, but also something more sinister and aggressive.
The Black-Hearted King was a man of decisive mind, and this illusion could not shake him. Huron sneered and formed his own image in his mind.
It glowed crimson, and like following a searchlight to a safe haven, Huron used himself to guide himself away from the clutches of the Warp.
He finally came out and saw that Sarpedon had exhausted all his will and strength and collapsed on the floor, his cheek pressed against the metal, breathing hard.
"call--"
With a long sigh, Garon Sulet also walked out of the confused scene.
The wizard glanced at Huron, and then said softly:
"It's true. Prayed's fleet has probably been killed by the Astral Knights. They have a powerful battleship that we don't know about."
"Yeah, they're done."
Sarpedon got up from the ground and said with a smile, and then looked up at the central display. When the shocking numbers scrolled past the life signals of all the sacrificers, he barely showed any mood.
He even looked thoughtful rather than triumphant.
"Are they still alive?"
Huron glanced at the crystal cabin, and the sacrificers inside were motionless.
"They are all dead. If there is to be another Phantom succession, a new batch of psykers will be needed."
"What will be provided for you will always be available."
Huron's answer was brief.
"But before that, you will be granted a fleet, Sarpedon."
Sarpedon, who had already guessed this development, bent down and asked humbly:
"Where is the destination?"
"Go to the Pandora galaxy, teach the Astral Knights a lesson, and find a way to help Abaddon. We must fulfill that damn promise, even if there are some changes in the process... I know that you and Soshiyan are old acquaintances I must know how to deal with him. Originally, I planned to ask you to burn down his lair, but since the Astral Knights dare to come out in full force, it means that preparations have been made. Perhaps the Suffering Alliance will now cooperate with the gatekeeper As long as he stays there like a dog, I won’t put any effort into solving the immediate trouble, and I’ll have plenty of time to settle the accounts with him in the future.”
"Understood, my lord."
"If you can bring back the head of Soshyan's wild dog, I will give you an unimaginable reward."
When he said this, Huron's tone could no longer hide his anger and murderous intent.
Sarpedon just nodded slightly and remained silent.
