Compared to other targets, attacking the camp of the followers of the God of Slaughter was what General Paste dreaded the most.
Although the Chapters had previously seized temples and fought against the followers of the God of Lust, those were two entirely different matters. The temples of Sigmar had some defenses, but they were religious institutions at heart. The pleasure cultists' banshees and succubi had occupied noble estates — luxurious, yes, but hardly fortified.
The military camp, however, was another matter.
It had been a military stronghold from the beginning, one of the most difficult fortresses to capture even within the city. Worse still, during the comet disaster, the camp had suffered almost no damage. Instead, the soldiers stationed there had grown so decadent and corrupt that when disaster struck, they lost all will to fight and fled without a trace — handing the enemy a fully intact fortress on a silver platter.
Now, staring at the camp in the distance and the enemy patrolling its walls, General Paste gritted his teeth in anger. If he could, he truly wanted to drag back every last coward who had abandoned the camp and have them all executed on the spot.
Of course, if it were just a matter of attacking the camp, Paste would not have been too worried. It was, after all, an urban garrison. The number of Slaughter cultists was limited. Even if they summoned a few demons, in the current situation they would hardly be able to cause much trouble.
The real problem was… that barrier.
General Paste raised his head and stared at the layer of blood-red light surrounding the camp, as if it were made from pure blood. It was not a barrier meant to keep attackers out but rather a massive magic formation. Anyone who fought and died within it would have their strength and soul claimed by the God of Slaughter, making the barrier stronger and eventually opening a gateway to the Dark Realm. Once that happened, Slaughter's demons would pour through in force.
They had to destroy the cursed barrier completely.
But… without fighting, how could they break it?
Charge in directly?
Paste shook his head. He was, in truth, an average general at best, having secured his position largely through his family connections. He could analyze a battlefield well enough, but devising solutions was another matter. His earlier strategies had been nothing more than cautious, steady advances — hardly strokes of genius. If not for Duanmu Huai and his Pink Bunny Chapter completing their missions with overwhelming success, Paste might still have been mired in the chaos without a way forward.
So he decided not to overthink things. If the sky falls, there are taller men to hold it up.
He turned to look at Duanmu Huai beside him.
"It's yours."
Duanmu Huai had previously said he had a way to destroy the barrier, which was why they had all come together. Along with the Imperial Chapters, the Battle Sisters, Witch Hunters, and Imperial Army had surrounded the area completely, ready to attack at a single order.
Of course, doing so would be exactly what the Slaughter cultists wanted — a head-on clash of blood and steel.
After all…
"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"
Hearing the slogans shouted from the walls and seeing the cultists swinging their axes like madmen, Duanmu Huai rolled his eyes.
A bunch of muscle-brained idiots.
"Leave it to me. Time to show these meatheads what real power is."
He stepped forward, raised his right hand, and aimed it at the camp. The Slaughter cultists jeered and shouted mockingly, but Duanmu Huai ignored them. He focused his gaze on the fortress ahead and began channeling psychic energy into the [Gravity Gauntlet].
The next moment, the impossible happened.
Before everyone's eyes, the sturdy camp walls suddenly collapsed. Stone bricks crumbled and scattered, some shooting into the air before crashing to the ground. Then, the buildings inside began to shake violently. Cracks split across their heavy stone structures, as though an invisible giant hand had grabbed hold of them and was shaking them apart before ripping them from the earth.
The fortress shattered in an instant, like a child smashing a tower of toy blocks. With a mere wave of his hand, Duanmu Huai swept away the heavy outer wall entirely, revealing the rooms and furniture inside — and even some corpses.
The onlookers were left speechless. The Imperial captain fell to his knees, trembling in awe. The Witch Hunter stared silently, eyes wide. The Battle Sister clasped her hands together, murmuring a prayer. The soldiers and Chapter members raised their arms, cheering and praising the glory of Sigmar.
The Slaughter cultists inside, on the other hand, were shocked and enraged. Unfortunately for them, they had no way to counter such a mysterious attack. Had they been servants of the God of Deception, they might have resorted to some ancient and forbidden magic. But they worshipped the god who despised magic the most — and thus, when faced with such power, they were utterly helpless.
Meanwhile, Duanmu Huai's expression darkened.
The [Gravity Gauntlet] was powerful, but it still consumed his psychic reserves to operate. Without even checking his status bar, he could feel his psychic heat climbing rapidly. In theory, a psyker who drew on the Warp could use their power without limit — but just like a machine gun overheating after too much fire, exceeding one's limit only led to trouble.
Fortunately, he had found it.
After tearing away another section of the camp, Duanmu Huai finally spotted a defiled altar hidden within — covered in bloodstains, littered with bones, and radiating a baleful aura.
That's the one.
He clenched his right fist.
Crack!
Under the crushing force of gravity, the altar shattered instantly. At the same time, the blood-red barrier enveloping the camp vanished.
General Paste's eyes lit up. He drew his sword and raised it high.
"All units — attack!"
The battle that followed needed little explanation. Without the fortress walls or the barrier, the remaining Slaughter cultists stood no chance against the combined assault of the Imperial Army and the Chapters. Within minutes, they were hacked to pieces.
When the last cultist fell and the soldiers' cheers rang out, a mission prompt appeared before Duanmu Huai's eyes.
[Divine Mission "Glory of Sigmar" – Stage One Complete]
[Mission Rating: Outstanding!]
[You have displayed Sigmar's glory, reclaiming this cursed city! It shall rise from the ruins and regain its former splendor!]
[Reward: 35,000 EXP + 18,000 bonus EXP; Level up to 28; +3 Specialization Points, +3 Attribute Points]
[New Skill Acquired: "Soulflame" (unleash holy fire centered on yourself, burning enemies)]
[Divine Mission "Glory of Sigmar" – Stage Two Unlocked]
[Objective: Restore the Empire]
[The Empire is shrouded in Chaos. Wield Sigmar's holy hammer to banish the darkness and restore its glory!]
Duanmu Huai's first thought was… Oh, so you're just going to dump this on me, huh?
If Sigmar were here in person, Duanmu Huai would have grabbed him by the collar and asked, What does your crumbling Empire have to do with me? Why should I be the one to save it? We're not even close, buddy!
If it had been Zhendan, maybe — maybe — he would have agreed to help. But the Empire? He had no ties to it at all, and now they wanted him to shoulder its fate?
Truth be told, he saw his work in Mordheim as nothing more than mutual exploitation between himself and Sigmar. The so-called patron god of the Empire hadn't actually done much. Apart from showing off with a hologram in the temple, Sigmar had been about as useful as a corpse. Every victory — seizing temples, foiling Chaos cult plots, exterminating Skaven — had been Duanmu Huai's own doing, without any help from Sigmar's power.
The bombardments had burned through his own ammo, too!
And yet everyone around him credited it all to Sigmar's glory. Fine, he could live with that — but there was a limit to how much wool you could shear from the same sheep.
Help you once and you should be grateful. Don't tell me you're going to make me Emperor now. What, you expect an Inquisitor to play house on your little medieval planet?
Inquisitors were more like emergency responders — investigating signs of Chaos corruption, dealing with anomalies, passing judgment, and carrying out executions. Afterward, they usually left the clean-up to planetary governors or rulers.
Some did choose to base themselves on a planet for recruitment and supplies, but as a Soulwalker, Duanmu Huai had no need for that. All he had to do was expand his [Soul World Fragment]. Situated in the Warp, it could be anchored to his space station, giving him a portable, Chaos-proof supply base.
"I refuse."
He chose the rejection option without hesitation.
But almost immediately, the system prompt popped up again.
[Divine Mission "Glory of Sigmar" – Stage Two Unlocked]
[Objective: Restore the Empire]
[The Empire is shrouded in Chaos. Wield Sigmar's holy hammer to banish the darkness and restore its glory!]
[Rewards Doubled]
"…Hmm."
That last line gave him pause.
Double rewards…
That meant not only double experience, but also skill improvements and other benefits. Clearly, Sigmar had no intention of letting him walk away.
And honestly, the EXP was useful right now — leveling up was still important.
As for restoring the Empire… Duanmu Huai had a plan. Becoming Emperor himself was out of the question — but finding someone else to sit on the throne? Now that was doable.
He was Sigmar's chosen, after all. His word was Sigmar's word. If he named someone Emperor, who would dare object?
And as it happened, he already had a candidate in mind.
"Alright, fine."
He was tempted to reject it again just to see if the rewards would triple, but decided that might be pushing it. So, with feigned reluctance, he agreed.
After all, it wasn't exactly a loss for him.
(End of Chapter)