NCCnovel Chapter 344: The Blood Raven Legion
Chapter 344: The Blood Raven Legion
Chapter 344: The Blood Raven Legion
Back in Baal, Russell stood before Dante, clutching the "Blood Drinker" entrenching tool stained with demonic blood, his face etched with shame. He bowed his head, his voice barely a whisper: "I'm sorry, Lord Dante, I failed."
Dante laughed, as if he had heard a funny joke. His laughter echoed in the command center, even startling Mephisto, who was adjusting a psionic container nearby. Dante patted Russell on the shoulder, so hard that the golden-haired psionicist almost stumbled: "Sometimes failure is more meaningful than success. You've only failed once. I've failed for hundreds of years."
Russell paused for a moment, looked up at Dante's weathered face, and suddenly felt that this old warrior who had lived for thousands of years was smiling like an old rascal who had seen through everything.
Dante continued, "You know what? Back in Baal, I was almost wiped out by the Zerg. That was a disaster. What's your little setback compared to that? Besides, didn't you bring back six hundred Primal Forged Warriors and ninety-eight Super Angels? If that were when I was young, they probably wouldn't even have left a trace."
Russell was amused by Dante's words, and his guilt lessened considerably. He scratched his head and muttered to himself, "But I still feel a little embarrassed, after all, I was the one who gave the orders."
Dante laughed heartily, pointing to the badge on his chest that symbolized the Holy Blood Angels Chapter: "Shameful? Look at this, it's not just about glory, but also about countless failures and lessons. Russell, failure isn't scary, what's scary is that you never dare to stand up again."
At that moment, Carrion walked over from the side, his white wings still wrapped in bandages, but he still stood tall, his voice low and firm: "Lord Dante is right, defeat only makes us more aware of the enemy's strength. Next time, we will let them know that the Blood Angels' defeat is only temporary."
Arya joined in, her psionic staff swaying gently in her hand, its crystal shimmering with playful light. "Besides," she said, "we fought our way out of the Chaos Alliance's encirclement this time. Isn't that a victory?" Russell looked at his comrades and suddenly felt a warmth in his heart. He gripped the "Blood Drinker" tightly, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Alright, since you all say so," he said, "I won't be coy. Next time, we'll make sure Chaos knows that defeat is just a warm-up."
Dante nodded in satisfaction, turned, and walked towards the command platform, humming an ancient hymn of the Holy Blood Angels, so off-key that even Mephisto couldn't help but cover his ears. Watching Dante's retreating figure, Russell suddenly felt that defeat wasn't so bad after all.
…………
Dante's attitude towards failure undoubtedly had a profound impact on Russell, helping him to recover from the gloom of defeat, as if that failure was merely a small warm-up exercise. Russell gripped the "Blood Drinker" entrenching tool in his hand, golden psionic energy flowing along the blade, as if responding to his rekindled fighting spirit.
Dante looked at Russell, a hint of satisfaction flashing in his eyes, then patted him on the shoulder, his tone relaxed yet carrying an undeniable authority: "The Blood Ravens have sent a distress signal; they've been attacked by the Thousand Sons. Those bastards who're spewing psionic energy everywhere are tough to deal with. You're the perfect candidate. Their Chapter Master, Gabriel, will definitely love you."
Russell nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I'll take men to provide support immediately." His voice carried a hint of eager excitement, as if he couldn't wait to meet those legendary psionic masters.
Carleon's white wings fluttered gently behind him, his voice deep and resolute: "The Thousand Sons? I've heard their wizards can manipulate psionic energy in countless ways. I'd love to see for myself." Arya's psionic staff glowed faintly, a mischievous glint in her eyes: "Russell, don't let their psionic energy dazzle you. After all, your golden psionic energy is the real trump card." Russell smiled, brandishing his entrenching tool: "Don't worry, I won't let them steal the spotlight."
Dante looked at the group of spirited warriors and nodded with satisfaction: "Remember, Russell, although the Blood Ravens Chapter is not our chapter, Gabriel is a trustworthy ally. You must cooperate well and not let those Thousand Sons wizards take advantage of you." Russell nodded solemnly: "Understood, Lord Dante. We will defend the future of the Empire with our blood and honor."
With the order given, Russell led the warriors of the "Golden Wings" onto the warship.
……
Gabriel Angelo's battle cry pierced the psionic shrieks of the battlefield as his crimson power claws tore open the breastplate of a Thousand Red Letter warrior, the flying metal fragments mingling with warp dust to form a crimson haze. The Blood Ravens Chapter's fortress was now a scene of purgatory—the Thousand Legion's fleet hovered in near-Earth orbit, countless turrets inlaid with Tzeentch runes unleashing psionic lightning, and crystal obelisks on the ground cracked open repeatedly, from which emerged cursed legions of blue flames.
"Hold the energy core!" Gabriel kicked over a cursed ghost trying to approach the reactor, the servo skeleton on his shoulder armor creaking from the aftershocks of the psionic energy. His think tank curator was engaged in a virtual duel with three Thousand Sons wizards atop the fortress dome, the vortexes of psionic energy erupting from both sides turning the entire airspace into a crimson vortex, even shredding the wreckage of a crashing gunboat into dust.
The Thousand Sons' offensive was like a precise scalpel. Their Scarlet Warriors moved with mechanized precision, each volley targeting the weakest point in the Blood Raven Chapter's defenses; Cursed Wraiths poured forth from warp rifts, ignoring attacks from physical weapons, only temporarily repelled by the psionic flames of the Thinker. Most deadly were the Thousand Sons sorcerers hovering at the edge of the battlefield—hidden behind psionic shields, using reality-distorting spells to transform the Blood Ravens' explosives into venomous snakes, melting steel fortifications into viscous liquid metal.
"Commander! The western barrier has collapsed!" A Blood Raven veteran's helmet visor shattered, blood streaming down his visor, yet he still held on desperately to the crumbling blast door. Outside, three cursed colossi made of gears and blue flames were tearing at the alloy gate with their burning claws.
Just as Gabriel was about to charge towards the breach, the entire fortress was suddenly illuminated by a blinding golden light. The sky seemed to be torn apart by a pair of giant hands, and Russell's flagship, the "Wings of Holy Blood," carrying golden psionic energy, leaped out of warp space, its Holy Blood Eagle emblem on the bow directly smashing a Thousand Sons frigate.
"It's time to teach these iron-clad wizards what true psionic power is!" Russell's voice boomed through the battlefield broadcast. Fifty super-angel warriors swooped down from the drop pods. Carleon's white wings cleaved a pure path through the psionic storm, and his power sword, "Judgment," pierced straight into the core of a cursed colossus. Golden psionic energy flowed along the blade, extinguishing the blue flames into nothingness.
Arya's psionic staff pierced the scorched earth, and the silver ripples that erupted from her instantly cleared away the cursed spirits within a hundred-meter radius. "Lord Gabriel," she winked at the Blood Raven Chapter Master, "mind lending me some psionic fuel?" Before he could answer, her staff had already pierced a fissure in the ground, detonating the warp traps laid by the Thousand Sons Wizards in reverse—the entire battlefield suddenly bulged, and hundreds of silver flames erupted from the ground, burning dozens of Red Letter warriors high into the air.
Russell himself was engaged in a death dance with the Warlord of the Thousand Sons. Each swing of the Warlord's scepter, inlaid with the Eye of Tzeentch, stirred up spatial ripples, but the "Blood Drinker" entrenching tool always managed to cut into the psionic blind spots at tricky angles. When the Warlord summoned the nine-headed fire serpent, Russell suddenly grinned, and with a backhand motion, plunged the shovel blade into his left arm—golden psionic energy stained with holy blood erupted, transforming into a giant sword that swept across the battlefield, severing the serpent's heads along with three wizards behind it.
"Retreat!" The voice of the Warlord of the Thousand Sons cracked for the first time, his body gradually blurring as he teleported through the warp. "But remember, Russell, the Bloodline of the Holy... this is only the prelude..."
As the last wisp of blue flame vanished into the void, Gabriel walked up to Russell, psionic tar still dripping from his power claws. He stared at Russell's healing arm wound and suddenly let out a hoarse laugh: "Dante was right—you really are a madman who trespasses into Hell and conveniently mends its cracks."
Russell wiped the chaotic residue off his entrenching tool, his golden pupils reflecting the super angels cleaning up the battlefield: "Don't forget, sometimes a shovel for repairing cracks is more useful than a power sword."