Chapter 90: "Praise the Blood God!"

Chapter 90: "Praise the Blood God!"

Six stood at the threshold, his arms crossed and his gaze cold, as the battle unfolded before him, from the entrance they made in one of the many connected bunkers.

The sound of Khorne cultists fighting and chanting was a stark contrast to the heavy, calculated movements of the Power Armored drones he had sent in. His face remained impassive, though inside, he reveled in the chaos.

’This was his world, his domain, and anyone daring to invade would face the full force of his wrath.’

As another Khorne Beast exploded in a shower of blood and gore, Six’s mind briefly flashed back to his previous battles with Shido’s invasions, knowing that this was another Chapter in his ever-growing campaign to protect his realm.

The Khorne cultists’ fervor did little to impress him—they were just another faction, another enemy to be crushed under the weight of his power and the precision of his machines.

The Power Armor-clad warriors were methodical, almost surgical, as they dismantled the remaining cultists. Each step, each swing of their weapons, was designed to obliterate any resistance. The cultists’ cries of "Praise the Blood God!" echoed in the air, but their chants grew weaker, drowned out by the sounds of the Power Armored fighters cutting them down.

Six’s voice was low, almost a whisper, but carried a deadly certainty.

"I gave them a choice. And they chose poorly."

His fingers twitched, readying for the next phase of the assault. As the last of the Khorne cultists were eliminated in the first bunker, he would ensure that no trace of their existence remained. His purpose was clear: eradicate the heretics and send a message to any other would-be invaders.

The cultists’ blood would feed the earth, the skulls would adorn his walls, and the message would ring out across all worlds:The Fallout world is not to be trifled with.

With that, Six stepped forward, signaling his Power Armored drones to clear the area. It was time to prepare for what would come next.

As the relentless bombardment continued, a tall male, the High Priest of the Khorne cult, remained unfazed inside their main reinforced bunker, as a chaotic ritual was underway.

He had black hair styled in a mohawk and golden robotic hands. His cybernetic goggles were connected to a piece of cyberware that extended down beside his ears all the way to his chin, giving the appearance of a beard. With the certainty of death outside, he focused on far more pressing matters that demanded his attention.

Cultists adorned with blood-soaked bones and flayed skins surrounded a grotesque mountain of corpses, chanting war cries as they fought each other to the death.

The survivors of these brutal duels stood victorious, their bodies drenched in gore as they prepared for the next stage of the ritual.

"Fight, warriors of the Blood God!"

Under the High Priest’s watchful gaze, two Blood warriors engaged in a sacred duel.

Determined to the death, the combatants clashed with ferocity, scattering flesh and blood.

Only one would emerge victorious.

The warriors circled each other, eyes burning with murderous intent. Blood-slicked weapons gleamed under the dim, flickering torchlight, their jagged edges thirsty for flesh. Around them, the cultists roared in approval, pounding fists against armor and stomping on the blood-drenched floor, creating a rhythmic chant of violence.

One warrior, clad in crude, spiked plate, wielded a greatsword engraved with runes of slaughter. His opponent, a brute of raw muscle and fury, gripped a massive battle axe, its edge stained with the remnants of past victims.

The High Priest watched, his golden cybernetic fingers flexing as he studied the combatants. His expression remained impassive—there was no need to interfere. Khorne would decide who was worthy.

The moment stretched, heavy with bloodlust.

Then—BAMM!

The greatsword warrior lunged, blade arcing down in a powerful cleave. The axe-wielder sidestepped at the last moment, twisting his body to avoid the strike, and with a savage snarl, swung his weapon in a brutal counterattack.

CRACK!

The axe found its mark. Bone shattered. Blood sprayed like an offering to the dark god they worshipped. The greatsword warrior’s head lolled to the side, split nearly in half, his body twitching before crumpling to the floor.

The cult erupted in frenzied cheers.

The victorious warrior heaved, his chest rising and falling in exhilaration as he raised his axe, roaring his triumph to the cavernous chamber.

The High Priest stepped forward, his boots squelching against the blood-soaked ground. He loomed over the fallen warrior, his golden hands reaching for the severed head. With a swift, almost reverent motion, he impaled it upon the victor’s spiked armor.

"Warrior, you have earned my favor."

He intoned, his voice deep and commanding.

The cultists howled in approval, but amidst the chaos, the victor’s eyes gleamed with something dangerous. Hubris.

And hubris in the realm of Khorne came at a cost.

Clouded by victory, the champion roared and swung his weapon at the High Priest’s head, when the latter turned his back.

The High Priest barely flinched as the axe carved into his shoulder, severing cables and spraying a mixture of blood and hydraulic fluid onto the floor. His golden cybernetic fingers twitched, momentarily spasming from the damage.

Then, with an eerie calm, he turned to face the fool who had dared to strike him.

The axe champion’s breath came in ragged gasps, his face twisted in a mix of triumph and desperation. He expected hesitation, maybe even pain, but the Priest only regarded him with cold amusement.

With unnatural speed, the Priest’s golden hand shot forward, clamping around the warrior’s throat. He lifted the struggling man effortlessly into the air, the mechanical grip tightening. The axe fell from the warrior’s grasp, his fingers scrabbling helplessly at the Priest’s wrist.

"You thought yourself worthy of my position?"

The Priest growled, his voice a mix of flesh and vox-distorted metal.

"You thought Khorne would bless your cowardice?"

The warrior’s bulging eyes gave way to unconsciousness just as the Priest clenched his fist.

Snap.

With a sickening crunch, the warrior’s neck shattered. The Priest tossed the lifeless body onto the blood-soaked floor, his expression unreadable.

Then the air shifted.

The corpse pile at the chamber’s center pulsed, a surge of unnatural energy rippling through the room. The scent of blood thickened, turning almost intoxicating as a crimson mist seeped from the mound of the slain.

A guttural, inhuman growl rumbled through the chamber. The cultists turned, their bloodlust momentarily giving way to awe.

A hulking form tore itself free from the mountain of corpses, flesh and bone melding into its own monstrous bulk. Towering over the assembled warriors, the Khorne Beast took its first breath—a ragged, shuddering inhalation that sent gouts of steaming gore cascading from its body.

It was a walking slaughter, a manifestation of carnage itself. Bladed limbs twitched, claws glinting with raw power. Its skull-like face bore no eyes, only empty sockets that burned with the unseen fury of the Blood God.

The cultists erupted into exultant cheers.

"Praise the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"

The beast howled, its cry shaking the very foundations of the bunker.

Then—a sharp whistle cut through the chaos.

A strange mechanical projectile shot through the air, embedding itself in the beast’s chest.

The cultists’ cheers faltered as they turned to see the object—a drill-like rocket, its tip already burrowing into the creature’s flesh.

For the first time, hesitation flickered across the High Priest’s face.

The Khorne Beast snarled, claws digging into its own torso, but it was too late.

The projectile vanished beneath the flesh.

BOOM!

The explosion ripped through the beast’s body, sending gore and shrapnel flying in all directions. A deafening silence fell over the chamber as chunks of the once-mighty creature rained down upon the stunned cultists.

Then, before they could recover—

The walls of the bunkershook.

Heavy footfalls echoed through the corridors.

Power Armored drones stormed into the chamber, their energy weapons roaring death.

The cultists, stunned but not broken, raised their weapons and charged.

"Praise the Blood God!"

They screamed as they met their enemy head-on.

But against the relentless onslaught of armored-plated warriors, even their fervor began to waver.

From a vantage point by the entrance, Six observed the battle with satisfaction.

"Let the fools learn."

He muttered.

"What it means to face my wrath for invading my world, the Fallout world."