Warhammer Divine Throne

”Hurry up!” Jacob softly urged the two remaining young Demon Hunters, and seeing no response from outside, he shouted louder, ”Jock?”

There was still no response from outside.

The faces of Jacob and his companions gradually changed.

”Jock is silent, boys, draw your weapons and prepare for battle.” Jacob took out the large axe from his back and said to the two remaining Demon Hunters.

The two remaining Demon Hunters nodded, holding a sword in one hand and a gun in the other; both were ready for combat.

The only sounds left in the warehouse were of burning flames and the wind.

Then, laughter came from outside the warehouse: ”Hahaha! Mentor Jacob, are the new Demon Hunters so fragile now? I haven’t even used my strength, and he’s already fallen. Such cheap offerings, the Blood God would not be interested.”

The three remaining Demon Hunters walked out from the banquet hall inside and found Jock’s head discarded on the ground. Even in death, his face was marked with incredulity and fear; he did not even have time to make a warning before he was killed by the person before them.

The visitor was tall, around one meter eighty-five. Horrible mutations had grown on his face and body, with horns and claws. Yet one could still faintly see the vestiges of his human self. Like Jacob, he too wielded a War Axe and Fire Cannon, his blood-red leather armor adorned with various Blood God’s markings, and rings and spikes of iron.

Jacob remained silent, but his fierce and hateful gaze said it all.

”Mentor Jacob, you surely did not expect this, did you? You thought that after waiting for several hours and avoiding an ambush, no one would welcome you here anymore.”

”I know you too well, my mentor. Your way of doing things has always been like this; investigating a place carefully unless it’s urgent, hiding in the shadows, understanding the situation and the guards’ routines before finding the best opportunity.”

”When you explore an area deeply, you always leave a partner outside to keep watch.”

”All these are what you taught me.”

Jacob finally could not suppress his anger; the voice of the Demon Hunting Master was filled with sorrow: ”Belte!!!”

”Indeed, Belte, that’s my name.” The visitor gently removed his cloak’s hood, revealing a horrifying face.

Belte was once considered a handsome man, and Jacob was always proud of his student. But seeing Belte’s appearance filled the voice of the Demon Hunter Guild’s Vice President with a profound sense of misery that choked his voice: ”So, you’ve become like this, have you?”

The person’s face before him was covered with tumors and bone spurs, hair at the back of his head grew and fell violently, with the remaining strands as thick as chains, piercing into his hindbrain, his eyes burning with brassy flames. Anyone who looked at him knew he was no longer human.

”Precisely, this is truly me, the perfect me. My master granted me new life, letting me understand the meaning of existence.” Belte gestured with pleasure, paying tribute to his master.

”Then I have no choice but to utterly destroy you.” Jacob had silently loaded his Hand Cannon with mercury bullets. He took out his hand axe: ”Enough words, Belte. Show me what the God of Darkness has taught you!”

”As it should be.” Belte understood his mentor well, knowing how much Jacob detested Chaos. Therefore, he held no compassion, nor the possibility of persuading his mentor to join Chaos.

Now that they met again, only a battle to the death remained.

Belte did not come alone.

Accompanying him were many terrifying creatures. These beings were once humans, but now they shared a single name—Deserters.

They were cultists fallen into Chaos for various reasons. However, one common attribute they shared was that the God of Darkness had nearly lost interest in them. They would only charge indiscriminately towards enemy lines, flailing with mutated limbs, ripping with engorged jaws like ravenous beasts. Many mutations appeared on them, their arms transforming entirely into tentacles or pincers, tumors sprouting all over, and some growing extra heads and limbs.

They craved battle with such madness because it was their only chance to earn the favor of the God of Darkness again. Their sanity nearly vanished, leaving only bloodlust and hunger, enveloped by fear, for if they disappointed the dark gods any further, their fate would become mindless masses of flesh prone to self-detonation, often called Chaos Eggs. These Chaos Eggs would explode into crowds, offering Chaos their last usefulness.

”Blood sacrifice for the Blood God! For blood and glory!” As Belte waved his massive hand, the restless Deserters charged towards the three remaining Demon Hunters, howling with madness.

Thus, inside the burning warehouse, the three remaining Demon Hunters clashed with the Deserters.

Jacob led the charge, the Demon Hunting Master’s steps light and swift. The first Deserter lunged at him with its pincers.

But Jacob was fast, exceptionally fast. The Deserter’s pincer was only halfway raised when a silver flash streaked across its body from shoulder to abdomen. The Deserter, still attempting to tighten its grip, was already cleft in two by Jacob’s axe.

The Demon Hunters dashing into the crowd drew their swords, experienced in dealing with Chaos Creatures. Facing the onrushing Deserters, they raised their Hand Cannons, the deadly mercury bullets blowing their enemies’ heads off. In close combat, they proved no less formidable. The silver Longswords inflicted enhanced damage on Chaos Creatures. In the dark cavern, under the blaze of flames, the Demon Hunters and Deserters fought fiercely together.

Jacob’s War Axe swung in swift arcs; the Demon Hunting Master first decapitated a Deserter, then swung backward, instantly severing two incoming tendrils. Jacob immediately turned, firing his Fire Cannon in quick succession, instantly blowing the heads off two more Deserters.

Then Jacob launched a fierce forward assault, cleaving three Deserters in rapid succession. Each strike seized the initiative, each hit narrowly dispatching enemies before their attacks could land. Yet throughout the fierce dance of battle, no Deserter touched Jacob’s hem.

His valiant display swiftly drew the attention of all the Deserters. In hopes of gaining the God of Darkness’s boon, almost all focused on Jacob. He showed no fear, lifting his Fire Cannon, and though its ammo should have been depleted, it continued to fire, consecutively blowing the heads off three more Deserters.

Such was the terrifying skill of the Demon Hunting Master. As he launched forward with his War Axe, his other hand quickly reloading the Hand Cannon—a supreme technique honed over decades. In combat, Jacob’s gunfire never ceased.

”Aargh!!” At this moment, a scream caught Jacob’s attention. When he noticed, the elderly Demon Hunting Master nearly split his eyes in rage.

A young Demon Hunter was pinned to the wall by Belte, pierced through the heart with the tip of an axe. The warehouse’s interior was ablaze, and flames torched the young hunter’s clothing as he screamed in agony: ”Fallen! Your soul shall face judgment!”

”Oh? How does it feel for a Demon Hunter who purifies with flames to be roasted by them?” Belte laughed with exaggerated mockery, but quickly reached out to wrench the bright red heart from the hunter’s chest: ”Forget it, this kind of cheap offering will not pique my master’s interest.”

”Mentor, would you lend me your head?”