Chapter 318 "Be Careful with Your Words!"

When Talos and his brothers heard the first death song of the Howling Banshee through their helmets, the consequences of the alien's invisible sonic attack were more apparent than the effects of physical weapons.

The Prophet tasted his nosebleed in his mouth. He gritted his teeth and connected all channels with the communication beads.

"This is the 'Prophet', reporting your situation! All Claw Commanders!"

"The Second Claw and the Fifth and Sixth Squads have cleared the rooms and corridors in the northwest corner. The rest of us are fine, but Murilash lost both of his legs... Oh, let me see, his hands may not be saved either, he rushed too far forward, and those pointy-eared XX almost cut him into a stick..."

"The Fourth Claw was attacked by those kalshiel in the middle! The howl penetrated the helmet and stunned many people... The firepower of the Seventh Squad covered us, and we are retreating tactically to the twelfth corridor on the left, while counting the losses."

"The Sixth and Seventh Claws are in the southeast corner of the exchange of fire! Damn it! Get out! You stupid dog of the pseudo-emperor! Don't be stupid enough to expose yourself to their star dart guns... Ah!!!"

The last howl showed that the pain came very quickly and very intensely, but Talos called up the data and looked at Faltom's life signal. Well, it didn't become a straight line, so there was no need to worry about him. Now they had enough retreat cover to call the pharmacist.

Once again, he heard the special screams closer, but there was almost no movement from the ordinary Eldar soldiers. He gripped his weapon tightly and began to walk with the steps his father taught him.

Tonight, the appetizers at the Night King's banquet were finished, and the main course was just about to be served.

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To be honest, those ordinary Eldar soldiers were not very difficult targets to deal with. Even the aliens who arrogantly called humans inferior creatures and monkeys still had cannon fodder and elites. Within the first sixty minutes of contact, the Astartes killed most of the relatively weak aliens, but the Howling Banshees had taken the opportunity to sneak deeper.

Before the arrival of these elite warrior shrines, the battle here was almost one-sided - because the cooperation between the six claws of the Night Lords and the third company of the Origin Chapter on this special terrain battlefield... was perfect to the peak.

In fact, the Night Lords and the Sons of Origin both discovered this fact with great emotion. Those who were very reluctant to follow the orders of the unclean betrayers would be horrified to find that the hard battle could be as smooth as a heated blade cutting butter. The Night Lords were the blades, and the Sons of Origin were the heaters. Under the coordinated firepower that seemed to be in a step-by-step manner, those vicious heretics rushed over to cut through the enemy's troops as easily as the sharp blades of the midnight cut through the throats of the weird armor of the Eldar.

Contrary to the ruby-colored Astartes who became more and more terrified and doubted themselves as they fought, the Night Lords gradually got into the groove and enjoyed such a rare hunting process. Yes! When you cut into the difficult enemy as a blade, you have precise, calm, and absolutely solid firepower cover around you, without the worry of unpredictable chaos and unplanned changes, and you can immediately retreat into the defense circle to re-equip and reload when you encounter danger. It feels so safe! So efficient, the sound of bullets, the whistling of weapons and the sound of armor breaking and falling to the ground are playing a harmonious and cruel symphony of life harvesting under the invisible command.

Even without the clever arrangement of the Primarch, the information Talos got from the communication beads was enough for him to conclude that the death dance of the Howling Banshees was trying to completely eliminate the brothers who wanted to protect him with no less than a hundred people.

——If according to the original 81 Night Lords and the broken equipment configuration with a lack of ammunition, then the remnants of the Eighth Legion, he and most of his brothers would indeed die here, die in Tessaguassa, die in the tomb of this castle that should have died with the death of the Primarch ten thousand years ago, a place suitable for the eternal rest of children born in the dark and killing in the dark, yes.

But (BUT).

This time things can be different. Their returning father promised him a different future, a future that he could try to struggle.

And now, it is not 81 to 216.

A bloodthirsty smile appeared on Talos Valcoran's face as he saw the supernatural heat haze appear before his eyes - one hundred and eighty to two hundred and sixteen, and he was no longer the "king".

It felt good to have someone to carry you at this moment, but the Soul Hunter would never tell anyone how he felt at this moment.

As the veil of reality sighed, the heat haze lifted.

She walked out of the darkness.

The remaining members of the First Claw were strictly ordered to leave, but Talos knew they were not far away.

The relic bolter fired at the tall, slender figure, but as expected, the storm of bullets failed to hit the target.

Talos's Terminator helmet and retina were equipped with targeting processors and automatic crosshairs, and his instincts from centuries of fighting could even make him shoot faster.

It was useless, she was too fast, she was like dancing on the edge of a knife, walking in the void, a void walker.

The howling banshee Phoenix Lord's long blade rushed towards a certain wall in the room before their eyes could see clearly - that was Markutian who was worried about Talos - his breastplate was covered with paper like paper. The blade pierced through, and the heavy bolter arched his back, spitting out bright red blood and fragments of internal organs from his mouth - and someone immediately dragged him away.

Talos rushed over and fired his melta gun continuously at the hateful Banshee King - it was equally dangerous to himself and the enemy at this distance, but he didn't care.

He had some success - at least a small hole opened in her helmet when she turned her head sideways. He saw the wet eyes in the opponent's slanted eyes with obvious Eldar characteristics pointing at the muzzle of the gun. of light.

"You." She pulled away, and the black flame three-edged blade in her hand repeled the Night Lords who wanted to come in like a storm, and almost cut two of them in half - the blade whirled back to her In his hands, he showed supernatural and unexplainable power.

Her Gothic language carried a reluctant and arrogant pronunciation, "Hunter of souls, prophet of the Eighth Legion, you must die here, in order to no longer have a bloody night, and for the continued existence of the Ark, Wu The prophets of Svi have seen it.”

Talos responded by swearing and drawing his golden sword.

"In my preview, you are not like this now."

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Blood flowed from Talos's body. The blade of his Olum Golden Sword had been cut off by one of the strongest warriors of the Eldar Tribe. He barely used the broken sword to support himself, and it was torn and penetrated in many places. Penetrating and slashing wounds, as well as the scorching heat of fire. One of his hearts has been pierced by the banshee's blade, and the other is working hard to maintain his last breath.

But he didn't make it easy for his opponent. According to what he was told, he succeeded in causing great damage to the Phoenix Lord to a degree that was almost impossible for an Astartes: one of the Eldar Banshee's legs was chopped off. Wounded, one hand was reduced to a stump by an overloaded melta gun - which also burned off a section of Talos' body.

"It's all over. Talos." The Phoenix Lord howling the banshee limped over. Her voice sounded almost gentle. If you ignore the mocking meaning in it, "Don't be afraid, all mortals are mortal." . It would be good for you to die here for the sake of Usvi’s life.”

She brought her sharp blade to Talos's neck.

The soul hunter spat acidic saliva on the ground. His vision turned black. He could no longer hold the hilt of the sword. His damaged armor made a crackling sound of electric arcs. The life support system had been destroyed by the black flames of the banshee. The last remaining The life was draining from him.

A object that was so fast that its shape and color could barely be seen jumped out of the shadows. The tips of its claws fiercely clawed into the Phoenix Lord's faceplate and throat, and then tore down her strong ancient artifact silver armor. The Hand of Asuryan and the Phoenix Lord were captured here forever in some supernatural howl.

Tears of blood began to flow from the eyes in every shrine of the Howling Banshee in the distant Craftworld.

The sharp teeth are about to fall——

"Keep your tongue in mind!"

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(*Why did you stop me at the last minute?) There was obvious dissatisfaction and desire for harvest in Coz's voice, (*It wouldn't be a big problem even if I let her eat her - the little girl of the Melvalion family The girl has trimmed the surrounding sea of ​​souls very well, and I can take care of the guys who come after her in it alone.)

"Because I need to keep her for use. It will be of great use."

A suspicious tone and vigilant tone immediately took over Midnight Ghost's words, (*What? You don't want to stir up some alien and heretical stuff behind my back, do you? I'm warning you...)

"Of course not - where did you learn this sentence pattern? You are not allowed to imitate my idiom in chatting! -"

(*What is that, you'd better explain it to me.)

"Thesaguarsa is short of fresh water, isn't it?"

(*What’s wrong? You put it politely, this place doesn’t even have underground water.)

"Do you still remember what happened when Jaan Zar took his first step onto this planet?"

(*Tsk, isn’t it just those dramatic appearances, mystical storms and lightning that the Eldar love to use...etc?!)

"I think with enough rain, our agricultural development plan can now start to be implemented on time."