Deep in the webway, everything was silent, and the entire Comoros seemed to be immersed in a deep sleep.

However, beneath this apparent calm, a thrilling action is quietly unfolding.

The Midnight Lords Legion shuttled between the cities in various plates of Comoros like ghosts. Their figures were like shadows in the night sky, difficult to detect.

At the same time, the Raven Guard, who worked closely with them, also followed closely and carried out the infiltration work together.

Both legions are masters of stealth and fear, their movements are silent, yet precise and deadly.

They already know every corner of Comoros like the back of their own hand.

For them, this is not an ordinary war, but a carefully planned massacre game.

They enjoyed the thrill of hunting in the dark, and every successful assassination filled their hearts with satisfaction.

This feeling of fighting for the Emperor is the best stimulant for them.

Suddenly, a slight noise broke the silence of the night.

“Sizzle—”

With a sound, the sharp arm blade pierced through the chest of an archon like lightning.

Blood gushed out like a fountain, splattering on the purple-black wall, forming a weird and bloody picture.

Koz walked out slowly from the darkness, his steps light and graceful, as if this bloody scene had nothing to do with him.

His face was as pale as paper, but he had a hideous smile on his face, which revealed his indifference to death and his desire for killing.

With a slight flick of his finger, the arm blade seemed to be given life, spinning in the air and crushing the archon's internal organs.

It all happened in an instant, so fast that people had no time to react.

“This place is like a playground for me.”

The moment Koz spoke, he raised his foot and stomped it down without hesitation.

With a "puff" sound, the head of a dark elf exploded like a ripe fruit, and brain matter and broken bones splattered everywhere and splashed on his boots.

The bloody scene was horrifying, but he showed no fear at all. The corners of his mouth even slightly raised, revealing a twisted smile.

Koz looked down at the scene, a hint of cruel pleasure flashing in his eyes.

He slowly raised his head and looked around, only to see the bodies of the Dark Eldar piled up like a mountain, their blood gathering into a red stream that meandered across the metal floor.

Suddenly, the Night Lords emerged from the shadows.

They wore dark blue power armor with countless Dark Eldar internal organs as pendants, making them extremely terrifying in the dark.

Their helmet visors flashed scarlet light, as if they were evil spirits from hell.

"Happy hunting, brothers." A Night Lord chuckled softly. His voice was processed by a voice changer and sounded unusually low and eerie, like the whisper of a demon.

The other Night Lords also let out a deep laugh, the laughter echoed in the air, making people shudder.

The Raven Guards were even more silent. They moved through the corridors like ghosts, and every strike was accurate and deadly.

Just as a Dark Eldar warrior noticed something was wrong, his throat was slit.

He covered the bleeding wound and fell down silently, his eyes full of disbelief.

Fear is spreading like a plague in the Comoros.

The senses and technology that the Dark Eldar were so proud of were useless in front of these two legions.

They can't even be sure where the enemy is, and death can come from any direction for them.

Curze stood on the top of a tall tower, overlooking the chaos below, his cloak made of a dozen Dark Eldar fluttering in the void, his pale face showing a morbid satisfaction.

"Look, they are afraid." He said softly, as if he was enjoying a wonderful drama.

Countless images emerged in his mind, the Dark Eldar screaming and fleeing, their arrogance and cruelty disappearing in the face of death.

Coze enjoyed it all, every cell in his body was cheering.

“Not enough…”

He jumped off the tower with a grim smile, pouncing on the next group of prey like a hunting bird.

Commorra is so huge, so large that it exceeds an entire star system. But for Curze and the Night Lords, it is just a larger hunting ground.

"Kill them all." Curze's voice spread throughout the legion through the communication network, "Let us become their nightmare."

The Raven Guards did not respond, but the sharp blades in their hands said it all.

The two legions were like the gods of death in the shadows, creating chaos and death in every corner of Comoros.

When the Empire's general offensive begins, this sinful city will have already collapsed from within.

In a slave concentration camp in Comoros, the shrill laughter of the Dark Eldar echoed in the fetid air, like countless tiny blades cutting the eardrums.

A girl huddled in the corner of an iron cage, her thin body trembling with fear.

Her wrists were rubbed bloody by the shackles, and her ankles bore purple-black bruises from the torture by the Dark Eldar.

Those slender, graceful, yet cruel creatures had just left to fetch new toys.

Even though she had no idea what it was, she knew that she would soon be part of their revelry.

She prayed silently in her heart, even though she knew that the light of the God-Emperor could not shine in this cursed Webway city.

Until the darkness itself answered her.

A crisp sound of bones breaking came from the alley, followed by a second and a third sound.

It was like some giant beast chewing its prey. The Dark Eldar's shrill laughter stopped abruptly, replaced by a short, strangled scream.

The girl looked up suddenly, her pupils constricted with fear.

The soles of his steel boots crushed bloody bones, and midnight blue armor emerged from the shadows like the embodiment of a nightmare.

The pale skull paint was peeling off his shoulder armor, his eyepiece was as scarlet as a solidified blood moon, and his bat-wing-shaped helmet glowed with a cold metallic luster under the dim fluorescent light.

His power claws were dripping with purple-black blood. At his feet was a witch dancer that had been split in half vertically. The remaining limbs were still twitching, and the fluorescence of the webtoon toxin flickered in the broken blood vessels.

The girl was stunned until she saw the clear golden double-headed eagle symbol on the armor. The Emperor's angel of death responded to her and her prayers.

Looking at the tall figure in front of her, the girl's breathing almost stopped.

She had seen the graceful cruelty of the Dark Eldar, the desperate cries of her own slaves, but she had never seen anything like this.

He was more terrifying than her torturers, yet more reassuring to her than anything else. He was death itself, but he came for someone like her.

The son of Lancelot Curze, a warrior of the Eighth Legion, the "Midnight Lords", should not have stayed here.

Commorragh is the nest of the Dark Eldar, the most twisted abyss in the galaxy. His mission is only to scout, gather intelligence, and then wait for the general attack to begin - not to expose his whereabouts for a human girl.

But he still stopped. When he saw the thin figure curled up in the cage through the thermal imaging goggles, some long-lost emotions surged deep in his chest.

The shadow of Nostramo flashed in his mind, those children abused by the nobles, those cries abandoned in the darkness...

He once vowed that the same tragedy would never happen again.

"One minute," he said to himself, and stepped into the slaughterhouse.

The giant walked towards her, and the servos in his armor made a low humming sound, like the breathing of some huge beast.

When he bent down, the mechanical joints in his cervical vertebrae meshed, making a sound of metallic friction.

The girl instinctively shrank back, but the cage was too small and she had nowhere to escape.

The giant said nothing, but stretched out his power claws and crushed the shackles that bound her.

The sound of the chains breaking was crisp and cold, like some kind of announcement - she was free.

"Go." His voice was still stiff, as if he had not used human language for a long time.

The girl didn't move.

She looked up at him, the scarlet light of the eyepiece reflected in her pupils.

He wasn't here to kill her. He was here to save her.

Some kind of hot emotion exploded in her chest, and she suddenly reached out her hand, and her trembling fingertips gently touched his arm armor.

"Thank...thank you..." Her voice was as soft as a mosquito's buzz, but extremely clear.

Lancelot froze. Few normal people could speak like this when facing the Eighth Legion. Although he was loyal to the Emperor, his friendly forces would inevitably feel a chill when they saw him.

How long had it been since someone looked at him like this? Not with fear, not with hatred, but with trust.

Pure, unconditional trust.

His power claws tightened slightly, and the hydraulic system at his knuckles hissed softly.

He did not deserve such trust. The Night Lords never saved, they only brought terror.

But her eyes made it impossible for him to look away.

Just then, more screams were heard from the alley entrance, and reinforcements from the Dark Eldar were approaching.

Lancelot turned his head sharply, his bat-wing-shaped helmet swept across the depths of the shadows, and the safety of his bolter automatically popped off.

"Run." He ordered again, his voice even colder than before, as if to completely freeze the hesitation just now.

He pulled out a bloody folding knife from his waist and put it into the girl's hand. "Run to the end of the alley. Don't look back. We will have someone looking for you."

The girl gripped the hilt tightly, her knuckles turning white from the force. She bit her lip and suddenly said, "You... you're going to be okay, right?"

Lancelot was silent for a second. "Run." This was the third time he said the word, but this time, there was an imperceptible fluctuation in his voice.

The girl finally turned around, and her thin figure disappeared at the end of the dark alley.

Lancelot stood where he was, his eyepiece locked on the enemies rushing in front of him.

She trusted him. And he would never betray her trust. The power claws buzzed and he stepped forward to face the tide of the Dark Eldar.

The girl's footsteps echoed in the damp alley, and her heart almost broke against her ribs.

Behind him, the screams of the Dark Eldar suddenly rose. They had spotted their fleeing prey. "Hidden slave! Catch her! Skin her!"

A slender black shadow leaped down from the arch bridge above. The blade of the witch dancer flashed in the dim light and went straight to the back of the girl's neck. She didn't even have time to look back. But death did not come.

The entire space seemed to be torn apart by some invisible force. The air condensed in an instant, and even time stopped. Then, darkness fell.

The blade of the witch dancer was only half an inch away from the girl's skin, but it could not move forward any further.

Her pupils suddenly contracted as her body was sliding down the middle.

A dark blade flashed, and her body was silently split in half. Before her internal organs and blood fell to the ground, they were completely evaporated by some terrifying force.

The screams of the Dark Eldar ceased abruptly, replaced by a more primitive fear.

At the end of the alley, a figure taller than Lancelot slowly emerged.

Conrad Curze, his pale face was like a corpse, only his eyes were burning with the cold fire of judgment.

His fingertips were dripping with blood that had not yet cooled, and behind him, dozens of Dark Eldar corpses were neatly lined up, each one precisely cut in half, like some kind of cruel work of art.

Lancelot's power claws tightened slightly, but he did not move.

"Primarch."

He spoke in a low voice, with no surprise in it, only absolute obedience.

Koz's eyes swept over him and then looked at the girl who was still running in the distance.

“You saved her.”

His voice was like an undercurrent beneath the ice, neither approval nor rebuke.

"Yes." Lancelot answered briefly.

Koz was silent for a moment, then nodded slowly. "You did a good job."

Lancelot's breath hitched slightly. The Primarch rarely gave affirmation.

Curze's gaze fell back on the Dark Eldar's body, his eyes cold.

"The Emperor's teaching is to save the common people of the Imperium, and you have fulfilled it perfectly."

His voice was low and calm, but it made Lancelot's heart tighten. It was recognition. Even praise.

Koz said nothing more, but turned around, and shadows spread under his feet, as if the whole Comoros was afraid of his existence.

"The mission continues." He finally said, his figure gradually blending into the darkness.

At the end of the alley, the girl finally stopped and looked back tremblingly.

She saw the back of Curze, a being even more terrifying than Lancelot, a giant who could cause the Dark Eldar to collapse with just a glance.

And he had just acquiesced to her escape. Her fingers tightly grasped the bloody folding knife, and tears silently fell.

"The Emperor...bless them..."

After saying that, the girl ran into the darkness. At a corner, a tall man found her and took her deep into a pipe.

The Night Lords are liberating the slaves in Commorragh. Whether they are civilians, Astra Militarum soldiers, or Space Marines captured in Commorragh, they will all be part of the next operation.

Outside the webway, thousands of admirals of the Imperial Navy are formulating plans. They will launch an attack under the leadership of Warmaster Horus and his deputy Abaddon.

"I hope the Night Lords and the Raven Guard can complete their mission, otherwise we will suffer." Horus sighed.

They were naturally aware of the enormity of Comoros, and the eight most elite Space Marine Legions in the Empire were responsible for the frontal assault on Comoros, namely the Luna Wolves, Blood Angels, Imperial Fists, Iron Warriors, Ultramarines, Desert Warriors, White Scars, and Word Bearers.

As for the flank attack, almost all Space Marine Legions and loosely organized Chapters will participate. It can be said that the force participating in the battle is far greater than the fighting force during the Horus Heresy.