Malcador frowned, and before the shuttle's steps could be extended, the old man jumped down with extremely agile skills.
Behind him, the Golden Statue of the Sage smashed down like a giant beast, and a deafening roar came from the deck of the World Eater.
The fleet led by Malcador has now arrived at the side of the World Eaters warship away from the spaceport.
"My Lord, shall we not reunite with the Ultramarines and Death Guard who are rescuing us?"
Jin asked, and Malcador waved his scepter, causing golden fire to splash out and the blood to fade away.
“No need.”
The flames showed them the way, and Malcador made his way directly to the nearest hatch on the deck.
Kim and Sister Silent followed him.
The old man moved quickly, and Malcador knew that at this moment, time was life.
He hunched over and walked into the blood mist. The good news was that the veil here did not continue to weaken—the previous summoning had consumed too much of them.
In the narrow corridor, the scarlet monster cast its eyes towards the group of people. Malcador coughed. He was not a martial artist, and this was his first battle against Khorne...
For his old bones, this was a bit irritating.
Malcador slammed his scepter to the ground, and the robe at his feet fluttered in the wind, and an invisible shock wave spread out with golden flames!
He sensed the trapped positions of the two Primarchs, Malcador casually wiping the blood from his mouth. Angron and Robouti Guilliman, one of them, if he had any knowledge of psychic powers... would not...
Malcador took a deep breath.
Useless fellows! Let him come!
————
The dry scarlet desert stretches endlessly.
Angron let out a series of hoarse breaths, and the Primarch half-sat on the sand, breathing weakly.
Angron gave a wry smile.
[You should take a break, bro.]
They were trapped here, in an illusion, and at this moment, they had no concept of time.
Robert Guilliman, who was leaning against him, didn't even raise his eyelids. He was like a program that had no input signal and entered an infinite loop, muttering to himself.
Angron could tell that it was Robert Guilliman's summary of his failures, not just this battle. Guilliman recalled every mistake, as well as the subsequent reviews and changes.
Guilliman paused before compiling the errant actions of his Nineteenth Company.
I realized very early on that the truth is always cruel.
Guilliman said hoarsely, "Not everything gives you a chance to learn and change. Events are often worse. They don't even give you a chance to observe."
Angron lowered his eyes, and stroked the dry handle of his axe.
[Survival requires luck.]
Guilliman turned his gaze toward the distant, dry horizon.
I was lucky.
Guilliman looked back, and his gaze faltered for a moment as it touched the dead spike above Angron's head.
Angron sighed.
Wait,
He said,
[I believe Mortarion will come, even if he behaves in an extreme way, he will be rational.]
Guilliman also sighed, and said calmly,
[… I admit that I was prejudiced against him.]
[But now, I realize that this is his own survival wisdom.]
The Lord of Red Sand smiled.
[After we get out, you should have a good talk. ]
Guilliman was silent for a long time before he spoke:
[I hope Mortarion—]
"come over!!!"
Guilliman looked towards Angron, silently asking if he was friend or foe.
Angron frowned, trying to make out the words with difficulty, and used his mouth to shape the words.
[I don't know, but it's not Mortarion—]
"Then just wait for Mortarion to rescue you!"
The old man shouted angrily, and this time it was clearly heard by the two Primarchs.
Guilliman and Angron hurriedly dragged and carried a dozen World Eaters who were already in a state of suspended animation, and ran over there.
The rough red sand stretched out beneath their feet, initially hot as if from the rays of the stars, but slowly the sensory realities faded away.
Space became blurred like a fiercely burning scarlet flame. Where the flames rose was the desert, and where the flames did not cover -
The two running Primarchs saw the bulkhead of the World Eaters, saw Malcador holding on to his scepter tightly, and a huge Magus firing fire bombs at the demonic tide like an automatic fire platform.
Angron took the lead and leapt back onto the hard metal floor, followed by Guilliman.
Malcador quickly pulled out the scepter that was stuck in the floor, and the flames immediately rushed towards the old man. Guilliman was about to pull the old man back,
But before he could reach out his hand, Malcador dodged with extremely agile movements.
"Just take care of yourselves!"
"Follow closely!"
Malcador moved nimbly among several men who were much larger than he was, and with a casual swing of his staff, he struck his target. Angron saw blood and fangs spurting out of the air from the demon who was hit in the face by the front of his staff.
Angron had met the Imperial Regent, Malcador, once before, but that had been at the Council of Nicaea, and he had never met Malcador in private.
This is a man with a warlike bloodline.
Angron made his judgment.
Trapped in an illusion for hundreds, thousands, and infinite years, the two Primarchs were clearly not in their best condition. Malcador's team escorted them and did not even allow the two Primarchs to make a move.
Malcador and Jin led the way, all the Great Sage's firepower platforms were opened, and Malcador was responsible for attacking the scarlet demon army that emerged from the gunpowder smoke.
Malcador's staff burned with flames, and the flames seemed to have life as the old man swung - no, swung the staff, accurately leaving a permanent mark on each unfortunate demon soldier.
Angron believed that Malcador was definitely not the gloomy and treacherous minister as rumored—at least, the treacherous ministers in the human impression would not use such a direct and brutal attack method.
With Malcador's guidance and paving the way, they soon joined the Death Guard who came to rescue them.
Angron was pleased to see that among those white-helmeted warriors there were rescued World Eaters.
And Guilliman was relieved to see that there were no Ultramarines among the warriors who had penetrated the furthest—
He wasn't sure if the Ultramarines he'd encountered were still in his team.
Although it seemed that the Death Guards did not welcome Malcador very much, they seemed to be forced to come over and fight side by side with the old man.
The team gradually rushed into the area they controlled. The demonic tide began to recede. Malcador, who had been silent until then, suddenly spoke,
"How is Mortarion?"
The two Primarchs paused. Guilliman and Angron looked at each other and saw the surprise in each other's eyes. Mortarion also - Macragge was in trouble too? !
The Death Guard who followed them answered the question, saying that everything was fine for the time being, communications had not yet been restored, and they had a three-hour communication delay with the ground.
Malcador took a deep breath and looked at the two Primarchs who had just escaped from danger.
"I was prepared to support Mortarion - not you..."
The old man gnashed his teeth and said,
"Because the warp prophecy here clearly points to him."
Yay!
(End of this chapter)