41: Chapter 41 The Blitzkrieg Erupts and the Demise of the Skaven Tribe
Deep night, a deathly silence enveloped the subterranean world.
This was the depths of rock and soil, where eternal darkness was the sole ruler.
On the outskirts of the Ratman tribe, several Ratmen assigned to night watch were huddled beneath the rough rock wall, their heads nodding as they dozed. The crude spears in their hands leaned crookedly, their filthy fur caked with dirt, completely unaware that in the shadows beyond their sight, countless pairs of crimson eyes had silently opened, reflecting their feeble flames of life.
It was a sea of deathly stillness composed of the will to kill.
"Execute."
Su Chen's mental command, transmitted through Zaz's command network, transformed into a silent signal, accurately delivered to the neural centers of every combat unit.
No roars, no battle cries.
Only instantaneous action, triggered by absolute obedience.
*Hum!*
A violet outline materialized in the darkness, Sarah's figure emerging from the void. The menacing bone wings on her back silently unfurled, stirring a faint current of air.
She raised her hand, palm upturned, pale.
A tiny, almost imperceptible purple point of light coalesced in her palm.
In the next instant, this speck of light began to frantically absorb the surrounding energy—dust, moisture in the air, even light itself—all warped and drawn into it.
The speck of light expanded at an exponential rate, growing from the size of a grain of rice to that of a fist, churning with destructive psionic energy lightning within.
"Psionic Storm: Targeted Detonation!"
Sarah's gaze locked onto the central pillar of the Ratman tribe, the totem pole carved with filthy runes, symbolizing the false god's protection.
*BOOM—!*
There was no outward flash of light, only an extreme implosion.
The massive ten-meter-tall totem pole, along with the ground around it, was compressed into a point of absolute nothingness in an instant, then violently exploded. The rock composing the pillar didn't shatter; under the annihilating force of the psionic energy, it vaporized directly into a cloud of fine dust.
A terrifying shockwave swept in a ring through the entire Ratman settlement.
This deafening roar tore through the eternal silence of the underground world and tolled the death knell for the Ratman race.
"Squeak squeak squeak!"
Screams of terror, distorted in pitch, erupted from countless burrows.
Thousands of Ratmen were jolted awake from filthy straw piles and holes in the ground. They looked around in confusion, their chaotic minds struggling to comprehend what was happening before a pure black whirlwind of death charged into their crude cavern dwellings.
"Kill!"
A deep roar, powerful enough to make the rock walls tremble, exploded across the mental link.
The Heavy Legion Commander, that mountain-like Ultralisk, transformed its massive body into a primitive battering ram.
It utterly ignored the so-called fortifications—piles of wooden stakes and stones—on the outskirts of the Ratman tribe.
*CRASH!*
Its colossal body slammed directly into them.
Wooden stakes instantly turned to splinters, stone walls crumbled like crackers. Everything in its path was crushed, smashed, ground into a mixture of pulp and stone dust.
Close behind came the five hundred black reapers that had just completed their final adjustments.
Obsidian Scythe Roaches.
They were too fast.
Too fast for the Ratmen's dynamic vision to track.
Their movement was utterly silent, their streamlined bodies hugging the ground, leaving only fleeting black afterimages on the retina.
The only clear things were the two massive black scythes, as long as their bodies.
The scythes traced cold, elegant arcs of death through the air.
A Ratman who had just picked up a bone spear suddenly found its body split in two at the waist. The upper half maintained an expression of terror while the lower half slid away.
Blood gushed forth.
It didn't even feel pain before its consciousness plunged into darkness.
Another Scythe Roach cut in from the side, its dual scythes like the high-speed blades of a meat grinder. Wherever they passed, three or four Ratmen were instantly dismembered into a whirlwind of flying flesh and organs before they could even scream.
The Obsidian Scythe's horrifying sharpness made cutting through anything effortless.
Whether it was the Ratmen's crude leather armor or their shoddy weapons, they offered no more resistance than paper against the scythes.
The Armor-Piercing Blade trait was utilized to its utmost.
"God! Save us!"
An elderly Ratman Priest fell to its knees. Gazing at the one-sided slaughterhouse before it, its muddy eyes filled with despair.
It threw down its staff, using blood-stained claws to frantically scratch something on the ground, chanting prayers in an ancient tongue, calling upon the great being it worshipped.
Somewhere in the void, within a divine realm reeking of rot and filth.
A vast consciousness, formed from countless twisted faces and green pus, indeed sensed the wails of its mortal followers.
It was the "Plague Walker."
Fury churned within this mass of consciousness.
Its followers were being slaughtered, its faith was being shaken.
This was the gravest provocation against a deity.
A divine retributive force, mingled with venomous curses and the aura of disease, began to coalesce. Its will prepared to descend along the channel of faith into that underground world, to make those who dared offend it rot in endless Plague.
However.
Just as its will brushed against the boundary of that region...
A terrifying aura that made its entire divine spirit tremble with fear descended upon it, unreservedly and precisely.
What was that?
It wasn't an outburst of power, but a pure, absolute suppression from the very apex of the life hierarchy.
Seventh Tier.
Epic-Tier!
The Plague Walker's consciousness blanked for an instant.
The owner of that aura wasn't even targeting it deliberately. Its mere existence there made the Plague Walker feel like an ant gazing up at a fixed star.
It was a power that could effortlessly erase its divine realm, its divinity, its very existence altogether.
"Epic-Tier?! This... how is this possible?!"
Extreme terror simultaneously manifested on the countless faces composing the false god's visage.
Though it styled itself a god, it knew full well its strength peaked at the Second-Turn Demigod level. Faced with such a terrifying existence that could obliterate it in a single thought, it couldn't even muster the slightest notion of resistance.
Escape!
Must escape immediately!
*Snap!*
The intangible channel of faith was actively, brutally severed from the other end by the Plague Walker.
This false god, who moments ago was preparing to unleash divine retribution, now acted like a stray dog with its tail stepped on. It used all its power to withdraw its will, even willing to damage a portion of its divine essence, all to completely sever its connection to that terrifying coordinate.
It abandoned all its followers.
On the ground.
The fervently praying Ratman Priest stiffened abruptly.
It could feel it—the familiar, warm yet foul sensation from above the clouds—suddenly vanished.
The thread of faith connecting it to its deity had been cut... from the other end.
"God..."
The Ratman Priest looked up dazedly, mouth hanging open unconsciously.
"...has abandoned us..."
With the complete collapse of faith, the Ratman tribe's last vestiges of weak resistance crumbled instantly, like a house with its supporting pillars pulled away.
Countless Ratmen threw down their weapons, knelt on the ground, and emitted despairing wails.
However, the black reapers showed no mercy.
The slaughter continued.
Merely ten minutes.
Ten minutes later, this once-bustling underground tribe had become a complete dead zone.
The air was thick with the overwhelming stench of blood.
Not a single living Ratman remained.
Only the teeth-grating *crunch* of the Zerg Swarm feasting on bone and flesh echoed repeatedly through the empty caverns.