The strongest astral army in Warhammer 40K

Chapter 337: First Signs of Talent!

The orbital defense array of Baal emitted a piercing alarm, crimson warning lights swirling across the surface of the void shield. Dante stood before the massive stargazing window of the fortress command hall, gazing at the approaching Twisted Fleet in the sky—the warships of the Iron Warriors, their black armor crawling with chaotic runes, their cannons flashing a blasphemous purple light. Leading them was a killing cruiser shaped like a skeletal claw, its bow adorned with a still-beating demonic heart, each pulse sending ripples through the void.

“The Demon Blacksmith…” Dante’s voice was deep and thunderous. He had clashed with these corrupt traitors countless times, but this time, the Iron Warriors were far larger than ever before.

"Sir, Russell Company is assembled!" The messenger knelt on one knee, and behind him, a holographic projection displayed an array of [Golden Wings]—hundreds of four-meter-tall super angel warriors stood like sculptures, their pure white wings folded beneath metal shoulder armor, their power swords and explosive guns reflecting a chilling golden light in the glow of the Baal star. Beneath their feet stood a thousand Primal Blood Angels, their crimson armor etched with ancient blood oath runes, their helmet visors burning like hellfire.

Russell stood at the front of the line, golden psionic energy flowing around him, like a thin halo.

"Brothers," Russell's voice echoed throughout the fortress through the psionic amplifier, "Do the Iron Warriors think Baal is still a ravaged ruin? Let them remember with their own flesh and blood—the blood of Saint Gilles has never cooled!"

…………

The demon blacksmith Graxsol stood atop the bridge, his body, a patchwork of brass and flesh, crackling with electricity. His mechanical arm crushed the head of a mortal slave, the screams of agony morphing into shrill cries on a communication frequency: "Baal's little birds, kneel and lick my tracks, or I may build your corpses into my siege cannons—"

Before the words were even finished, all seventy-two orbital defense macrocannons fired simultaneously. Baal's near-Earth orbit was instantly torn apart by the light spears, and the three Iron Warriors' escort ships were reduced to burning wreckage in the explosion. Graxsol roared as he smashed the control panel: "Crawlers! You think these toys can stop the Iron Torrent?!"

He swung the forge hammer, and the fleet's warp engines suddenly overloaded. Hundreds of landing pods, wreathed in green flames, crashed into the surface of Baal, each crammed with Chaos Terminators and Plague Mechs. However, the moment the hatches burst open, they were not met with screams of terror, but with a death storm from the [Golden Wings].

"For the Emperor! For the Wings of Holy Blood!" Russell's roar resonated with the whistling sound of the "Blood Drinker" entrenching tool cutting through the air. Golden psionic energy erupted around him, the runes on the entrenching tool glowing blindingly, each swing sending up a shower of blood. A Steel Warrior Terminator had just raised his molten gun when Russell's entrenching tool cleaved through his armor, golden psionic energy surging into the wound, burning the traitor's internal organs to ashes.

Russell's steps were steady and swift; his figure on the battlefield was like a golden lightning bolt, and wherever he went, enemies fell one after another.

The demon blacksmith's flagship suddenly unleashed a filthy beam of light towards the ground. The earth cracked, and a colossal drilling beast, a mixture of flesh and gears, burst forth. Corrosive acid rain spewed from its mouth, only to evaporate into black smoke upon contact with the psionic shield surrounding the fortress—Mephisto stood atop the fortress's spire, the golden light of his psionic vessel swirling in his hand: "Steel junk, how's Baal's new gift?"

Graxsol finally descended in person. His body swelled to ten meters tall in the power of the warp, and each slam of his forge hammer caused an earthquake. But what greeted him was a swarm of Blood Angel Stormhawk gunships rising from all directions.

***

As Russell plunged the Bloodthirster shovel into the core of the last Chaos Dreadnought, the Desecration fleet in the sky had already transformed into a burning meteor shower.

"Report casualties." Russell put away his blood-stained entrenching shovel, and the golden psionic energy around him slowly dissipated.

"Zero casualties among the Super Angel Warriors, and twenty-seven losses among the Original Forged Warriors." The adjutant's voice trembled with awe. "Sir, this is simply... like a miracle."

Russell gazed at the fortress where the shields were being repaired, his golden pupils reflecting Mephisto's figure adjusting the psionic vessel. "No," he said, gently stroking the runes on the Blood Drinker, "this is just the beginning."

…………

Graxsol's flagship streaked through the void in smoke and flames, like a monstrous beast with severed claws, fleeing the Baal system in a sorry state. His mechanical arm trembled, cracks crisscrossed his brass and flesh-and-blood body, and half of the forge hammer's head was even sheared off. His rage burned in his chest, but it couldn't mask the fear within him—the images of those four-meter-tall super-angel warriors, and Russell wielding the "Blood Drinker" entrenching tool and the "Fire Kirin" laser gun, haunted his mind.

"Damn liars!" Graxsol smashed the bridge control panel with his fist, sparks flying. His voice was a mixture of mechanical hum and the screams of flesh. "Those demons told me that Baal had been riddled with holes by the insects! But there... there was practically an impregnable fortress!"

His lieutenant—a chaos wizard bound in chains—approached cautiously and whispered, “My lord, we underestimated their power. Those super angel warriors… and that Russell, his golden psionic energy could almost tear our armor apart.”

"Shut up!" Graxsol roared, his mechanical arm gripping the wizard's throat. "I don't want to hear that name again! Russell... he's just a mortal, how dare he let me lose so humiliatingly?!"

The wizard struggled, his chains rattling: "My lord, we need to rethink our plans. Perhaps... we can unite with other warbands, or summon even more powerful demons to aid us..."

Graxsol released his grip, and the wizard collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. A cold light gleamed in the demon blacksmith's single eye: "An alliance? No, this is my war. I will make Baal pay, but not now... not now."

His flagship hovered at the edge of the warp rift, the roar of its engines like the growl of a wild beast. Graxsol stared in Baal's direction, gritting his teeth as he said, "I will return, Russell. Next time, I will bring a torrent of steel strong enough to crush you and raze your fortresses to the ground!"

***

Meanwhile, on the planet Baal, cheers of victory echoed through the sky. Dante stood atop the fortress's tower, overlooking the battlefield. The Super Angel Warriors folded their wings, golden light swirling around their armor. Russell stood to the side, the Bloodthirsty entrenching tool in his hand still stained with the enemy's blood.

“Glaxol has escaped,” Dante said with a hint of sarcasm. “His first attack failed miserably.”

Russell nodded, the golden psionic energy slowly dissipating around him: "He underestimated us, and he underestimated Baal. Lord Dante, he will not let this go."

“Of course not,” Dante said, gazing at the distant stars. “The Demon Blacksmith never gives up easily. But next time, he will find that Balby is even stronger than he is now.”

Mephisto walked over and said, "Russell, your performance was amazing. Those super angel warriors are even more fearless because of your command."

Russell smiled slightly, looking down at the "Blood Drinker" in his hand: "I just did what I had to do. For the Emperor, for the glory of the Holy Blood Angels."

Dante patted Russell on the shoulder, his voice unusually gentle: "You are our most relied-upon warrior, Russell. No matter how many challenges lie ahead, I believe you can lead the Golden Wings to victory."

Russell raised his head, his gaze resolute: "I will, Lord Dante. Whoever the enemy may be, whatever the threat they pose, we will defend Baal with our blood and honor."