bullyxtreme Chapter 365 Guilliman's Revenge
Chapter 365 Guilliman's Revenge
The medical pod lights cast a cold shadow on Russell's face.
His wounds had stopped bleeding, but the putrefactive toxins continued to erode his internal organs. The pharmacist said his heart would stop beating every seventeen seconds—yet the body stubbornly clung to life, as if even death dared not easily take him away.
Carleon stood outside the hatch, peering through the observation window at the once invincible man. Russell clutched half a silver hairpin in his hand, his knuckles white from the force of his grip. It was the only thing Arya had left behind—it had fallen from her loose hair the moment Mortalian crushed her neck.
"We have to destroy it," the salamander apothecary whispered. "It's tainted with filth."
Carleon shook his head.
"Let him keep it." The angelic ruler's voice was unusually gentle; it was the only thing he could hold onto.
When Russell awoke, he lay quietly, his piercing abdominal wound bandaged with blood-soaked gauze. His eyes were fixed on the metallic patterns on the cabin ceiling, as if they held some message only he could see. In his left palm lay half a silver hairpin—the only thing he had found in the ashes of the battlefield that hadn't been corrupted by the plague.
This was the scene that Carleon saw when he pushed open the door.
"We have lost twenty-seven brothers." The angelic commander's voice was as cold and hard as his armor, "which bought us the chance to retreat."
Russell did not respond. His fingertips traced the edge of the hair clip, where there was a tiny crack.
A long silence fell over the cabin.
"She said..." Russell suddenly spoke, his voice hoarse as if burned by poisonous smoke, "If she dies one day, I should run away without looking back."
Carleon's wings trembled slightly.
34; What do you plan to do now?
The monitor's waveform cast a steady blue light on the bulkhead. Russell raised his undamaged right hand, looking at the golden psionic energy flowing beneath his skin—much dimmer than before, yet more solid.
"To Makulagh." He propped himself up, and fresh blood immediately seeped through the gauze. "Guilliman is assembling his army."
The hairpin was stored in the innermost pocket of the breastplate, close to the heart.
…………
The skies over Macurag were obscured by the assembled fleet.
As the Thunderhawk gunships landed on the landing platform of **Fort Hera**, Russell saw the **Ultraman Legion** fully prepared through the porthole. The neatly arranged Thunderhawk gunships, the battle tanks with their painted liveries, and tens of thousands of warriors clad in MKX power armor—Guilliman had clearly been preparing for a long time.
The hatch opened, and the distinctive sea breeze of Macurag wafted out, mixed with the metallic smell of engine oil and weapons. Russell slowly descended the gangway; his injuries had not yet fully healed, but his steps had regained their usual steady pace.
Robert Guilliman was standing not far away.
The Primarch's towering figure cast a majestic shadow in the sunlight. His gaze fell upon Russell, and a rare, complex emotion flickered in his icy eyes.
"You're back." Guilliman's voice was deep and powerful.
Russell did not answer, but simply nodded.
Guilliman's gaze shifted to behind Russell—Carlyon and the surviving super angel warriors stood in formation, their wings still bearing the scorch marks of battle.
"I've heard about Arya." Guilliman's voice held a rare hint of anger. "Mottarian...Nurgle...they must pay the price."
Russell clenched his fist slightly, but quickly relaxed it.
"We're not going there for revenge," he said calmly. "We're going there to end the war."
Inside the command center, a holographic star map projects the real-time battle situation of the **unbreakable defense line**.
The remnants of the Zerg continue to wreak havoc, the Orcs' WAAAGH energy is regrouping, and even more terrifyingly—**the warp rift has not yet fully closed**, and the corruption of Nurgle is slowly spreading.
Guilliman's finger traced across the hologram, eventually stopping at the location of Cassius IV.
"We cannot allow our defenses to fall again." His voice left no room for argument. "This time, we will completely purify that star system."
The tactical staff quickly drew up the battle plan:
The **Ultraman Force** is responsible for a frontal assault to destroy the remaining forces of the Zerg and Orcs.
The Salamanders are responsible for burning the plague-corrupted areas and purifying the filthy contamination.
- **Super Angels** serve as a rapid reaction force, ready to support critical battlefields at any time.
"Russell"—Guilliman's gaze shifted to him—"You'll lead an elite squad to locate and destroy the Blackrock Core."
Russell paused for a moment, then nodded.
"This time, I will not fail."
As night fell, Russell stood alone on the training field in Macurag.
He looked down at the half of the silver hairpin in his hand, his fingertips gently tracing the crack.
"Russell." Carleon's voice came from behind.
Russell did not turn around, but simply put the hairpin back into the inner layer of his breastplate.
"What did Guilliman give you?" Carleon asked.
Russell finally turned around, his eyes colder than ever, yet also more resolute.
"A small team, one objective." He paused, "and... a promise."
Carleon didn't press further, and continued:
When do we leave?
"Dawn." Russell looked up at the starry sky. "This time, we will not retreat."